


Dragon Age: A Crowd, A Charm

by ParadisiaDarkly



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Fantasy, F/M, Fantasy, Full triangle, Moderate-Graphic Sexual Content, Multi, Romance, Threesome - F/M/M, dragons!, polyamorous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:23:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadisiaDarkly/pseuds/ParadisiaDarkly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding love feels like a sin to Solona. Alistair and Zevran breathe life into a strange and glorious solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Admittance of Feelings

**Dragon Age: A Crowd, A Charm**

Chapter 1

_Admittance of Feelings_

* * *

Solona was listless. She stared out the the encampment with barely concealed contempt. Nothing was right, everything was a mess. For all the army she could gather, for all the progress she and her small company had made, the Blight still -still!- had it's stranglehold on Ferelden. And not to mention that treacherous, man-posessed Loghain still fighting for control and to discredit her brothers-at-arms. It was all too ridiculous to not be true. Nothing was right.

Her company eyed her cautiously when they heard her laughter, filled with derision, bubble out after long nights of too much thinking. She hated how she was now. She hated making her friends, her comrades worry, but the Blight was beginning to wear down on even her optimism. She couldn't pull herself out of her contemptuous mood completely no matter what she tried.

Bodahn and his heir apparent, Sandal, were unwaveringly kind and helpful as always. Ohgren invited her to join in his nightly drunken stupors and Leliana told her the wildest tales anyone had ever heard until the wee hours of the morning. Sten and Morrigan did nothing quite so directly, but they kept their gazes discreet and stood at the ready to supply their help and expertise. Wynne recounted her lessons learned from time and experience and seemed overly keen on learning Solona's memories of life at the Circle. The elder mage imagined it kept Solona's mind occupied even though each reply became more curt than the last. And Alistair and Zevran -oh, Maker, Alistair and Zevran- were the least helpful of all.

To their credit both men tried their best to remain unaffected and cordial. To Solona, to the group, to each other. But each day it became more and more difficult to keep the wrenching and swelling of their hearts in their chests.

* * *

Alistair, bastard Prince, ex-Templar, and recently Senior Warden, had felt the embers of his heart stoked from the day he first saw the endearing mage. She had come with Duncan- Maker keep him- to Ostagar as one of the most recently conscripted recruits to join the Wardens. He pushed his feelings down then. It couldn't be more than a passing fancy, he lied to himself. She was quite pretty, brave, and talented (in a magely way), but they were only acquaintances and what if the Joining were to go poorly? It was a passing fancy, Alistair told himself.

But now it was undeniable. After he had watched her bloom into a Warden and leader beyond imagining, after long nights huddled together fearful of sleep and the desperate, burning rage of the Archdemon's voice, after soft glances in the sun and laughter stolen in some of the last Blight untouched valleys, after the deep embrace with which her lips received his. . .It was a simple, incontestable truth. He loved her and he dared to dream, in his heart of hearts, of a day that life would be restored to Ferelden and would be free to be lived with each other.

He pushed that thought way down. Too many things stood between them at the moment: the Blight, Loghain and the Landsmeet, and that damnably charming elf from Antiva.

* * *

Zevran Arainai was decidedly unsurprised at the feelings (urges, he told himself) that sprang forth upon his meeting (and being spared by) the Lady Warden. She was as delectable as she was deadly and the combination was well on it's way to driving the extraordinarily adept Antivan mad. What did take him off guard was the inner turmoil he felt as he watched Solona bestow soft touches of her hand on the well-meaning and guileless, yet charming Alistair's shoulders in passing. This sensation, a mix of possessiveness, indignation, and anger, was new. Was he...jealous?

He had shared a lover many times before. It was always an interesting dynamic and Zevran was typically glad to work towards the happiness of all parties involved. But this. . .was not the same. He found himself smiling at her wistfully in the last light of day, glowing as pink as the sky, and going out of his way to recount his most amusing professional and personal anecdotes. He caught himself rather clumsily seeking her out alone and that's when he knew it was more than base urges that drew him to her. And it was more than one mere sensual encounter that he wanted to give her.

He suspected that she felt a growing attachment to him too and he was roused when he noticed her nearly imperceptible sideways glances when she heard the soft padding of his leather boots and at nights positioned herself directly across the fire from him, as to see and hear more clearly, but not be too obvious. His suspicions were confirmed one day as the stronger members of the company (Sten and Ohgren. . .and Alistair) were making repairs to Bodahn's cart. He and Solona seemed to mutually seek each other out under the pretense of gathering firewood. They went out and gathered, and talked, and made busy and suddenly Zevran felt their lips pressed together seeking each other out in another way. The kiss, for all it's chasteness, was indescribably intimate and they walked back to the camp without saying a word.

Words wouldn't do anyway. Zevran longed for action now, but there were many complications he never expected: the Blight and their mission, his heavy heart after past mistakes in (real, true) love, her own heart nearly visibly split in two, and Alistair who, for all his cutting in on Solona's heart and time, was not so bad.

* * *

 


	2. Raw History, Raw Heart

**Chapter 2**

_Raw History, Raw Heart_

* * *

While the two men tried not to eye each other during every spare moment, Solona tried desperately hard to not feel like a duplicitous whore. In her wildest imaginings she had never been the sort to lure in men without a whit of care for their battle-hardened hearts. She was, had always been, the exclusive sort.

As a young girl in the Circle she had known a few boys. She'd meet them between lessons and chores to talk excitedly and share frantic, little kisses. She'd sit with them at the few annual celebrations in the Tower. And then a few weeks later, either she or the boy would feel the hot blue flame die down and the meetings would creep to a halt. Weeks, sometimes months, would pass by and then one of her girlfriends would grin at her and whisper, "I think he likes you."

The years passed from crush to crush without too much incident. It was how these things went in the Circle. Parting from one or two of those boys was certainly more difficult than the others, but you still lived with these people. So, you managed with as little pause as you could muster. And then one morning a company of fifteen Templars and one mage arrived at the Tower.

* * *

First Enchanter Irving had contracted for an interim instructor from the Circle in the Anderfels. He was called Reinhold. He was twenty-one years old, a prodigy, and the youngest known mage to ever have been named Senior Enchanter for miles and miles. He would be Solona's first real, true love. And she his.

She was nineteen then and one of the brightest of her peers. She, like nearly all the women (and several men) of the Tower, was taken with the Interim Enchanter. He was tall and lithe, yet solidly built. He had dark hair that feel just before his shoulders and green eyes the same shade as mountain moss that always shone like he was thinking of some great, amusing secret.

Those moss green eyes saw something in Solona that they hadn't before. Something that made his usual easy, smooth nature a mite uneasy.

* * *

A few months after his arrival, it was decided amongst the Senior Enchanters that Solona would receive extra instruction from Reinhold in preparation for her Harrowing. They tried to not show preference amongst pupils, but Solona was a talent in her own right and deserved the first few after-dinner meetings were filled with small grins and slight stutters and red cheeks. But it had to be said that Reinhold was an adept teacher, and even better private tutor and Solona was an apt student, happy to learn for learning's sake and perfect her craft.

When they became used to each others company, they quickly took care of the extended lesson and spent the rest of the evening finding subtle and inventive ways to extend their time together. One of those long evenings, Reinhold couldn't contain himself. He drew his arms around her and nestled his head into the crook of her neck. After one hot, slow exhale onto her shoulder, he looked up and kissed her with a gentle urgency. It was strong, stable, and confident. It was a man's kiss.

After that evening, they stopped making excuses and pretense and instead allowed themselves to find pieces of their hearts they hadn't known were missing in each other.

* * *

When his term was reaching it's end, just a month after Solona's twentieth birthday and, unbeknownst to her, just a few months before her Harrowing, he was called back to the Anderfels on urgent business. He was to make the journey, settle his business (and apply for transferance to Ferelden, until Solona knew what she wanted to do after she was Harrowed. He would stay with her whereever. but he hoped to show her his homeland one day), and journey back in time to finish some last lessons and support his love through her great test.

Solona waited patiently for a return that, unbeknownst to all, would never come. The company of Templars and Reinhold had stopped in a small village that was set upon by a band of mercenaries in the night. Reinhold and the Templars fought through the night and killed or drove off the band and saved most of the villagers, but the village was burned to the ground. Reinhold met his end that night. Overcome with exhaustion and mana depletion, a rogue crept upon him and, with her own last breath, delivered a poisoned dagger to his side. _Magebane_ , he though as he lay dying, _Oh, Solona_. . .

When the sun rose, the remaining Templars found his body. With a heavy heart, for he had earned their respect through his skill and fortitude, they completed the journey and sent word to Ferelden. The possessions he traveled with were delivered to Solona, including his own staff, the silver-wrapped rough emerald charm he wore around his neck and a letter addressed to her that he had not yet sent. It spoke of his journey and his plans upon his return. The last lines stating his intent to share his life with her for all time.

* * *

Solona's Harrowing was put off for six months. And then another three. And for even a few weeks after that. She grieved (and still did) long and hard. The test did eventually go well to the delight and pride of all the Tower. But she only began to feel that life had a purpose when she was taken away from the Tower with Duncan to become a Grey Warden. A purpose, but not love. She hadn't felt the slightest attachment to any soul in the world since and believed she never would.

Until now. But it was all so wrong. You don't get to find love after your one great love is gone. And you surely don't get to find that impossible love during a damn Blight. And you don't get impossible Blight time love in doubles. It was all wrong and she was wrong, she told herself.

Did it not sully the memory of her beloved? Was it not an extravagant dalliance she could not afford as a Warden? Was it not cruel and unusual to give two men all she had to spare, all that was left in her, but to give neither the whole? She didn't know. She didn't know and finding out amongst all this oblivion was a new kind of pain.


	3. At The Fire's Side

**Chapter 3**

_At The Fire's Side_

* * *

Days had passed as the group made their way towards Denerim. Though their mission was one of timely importance, they couldn't help but trudge slowly through the country. They were still several days off from their goal destination, so they walked and walked each day until they couldn't go any further. And then they'd find a nice spot and set up camp.

They supped on some surprisingly plump birds Leliana had shot down and a crude flat bread Solona made from their last bit of flour. The next morning, they had decided, they would go out and gather some of the berries and edible vegetation they had spotted. In the moment, however, with the smell of roasting fowl in the air, they were too exhausted and hungry to do it. No one was overly excited about the ordeal that awaited them in Denerim, but they all could admit it would be nice to be back in a city where they could find a bounty of properly prepared food each night.

Solona excused herself as soon as she was done. Her mabari hound, Rex, padded softly back and forth outside her tent for a minute before picking his nose up. He followed a scent to the edge of camp where he spun around several times and settled down for slumber.

* * *

Awhile later the dwarves found themselves in a lively discussion about dwarven remedies for common ails (most involving common ale). Morrigan had come up to the main fire for a rare, but seemingly warm, conversation with Leliana and Wynne. Sten sat by, sharpening his sword, Asala, and listening amusedly.

Zevran and Alistair sat slightly further away from the fire. They were quiet for a few minutes until Alistair cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Listen, Zev. We're basically, uh, friends. Right?"

"We're certainly of the chummy sort, I'd say," Zevran chuckled, with the slightest nervous lilt in his voice.

"Oh, good. Good. Right, well...I was worried-"

"About our friendship? I never knew you cared so much," the elf interrupted, smiling slyly.

Alistair chuckled good-naturedly, "Yes, well...What I mean is I'm worried about Solona. It's...She's...Something is wrong."

"This is true."

Their faces blanched and they became silent again. It was serious.

"There is no reason to beat around the bush, Alistair. This is the sort of thing that ought to be settled quickly. And as cleanly as possible. Alistair," Zevran declared "I have found myself in a surprising predicament. I am...in love with our Lady Warden. That is, I love her. I know you must realize this already, but it needed to be said. I also believe she feels the same way towards me."

It was well known for some time, but hearing the bold declaration aloud took both men (and the rest of the party, who had begun to listen as the duos voices rose) by surprise. The quad by the fire sat rapt with attention.

* * *

"Maker! I know, Zevran. You must realize that I love her too. I've never...There hasn't been...I love her, too, and I may not be as well-versed as you in these matters, but I can't be mistaken when I say I believe she returns my feelings."

"Yes. Then, man-to-man, what is to be done?"

"Oh, I don't know. We could tie her down and make her choose. Wipe that grin off your face! I didn't mean literally!"

"Forgive me," Zevran began, chortling, "It, uh, was an enticing thought."

Alistair stewed, red-faced, for having invited the innuendo. He let his mind wander for just a moment.

"But, Zev, really. We're friends. And she's-and we can't both? But what can we do?"

"Have you perchance thought about asking the lady herself?" Morrigan spat from across the fire.

Sten and the ladies had quit their converstaion entirely and even the dwarves were peeking over and laughing at the shock on the would-be lovers faces at the suggestion of something so obvious. Amongst the guffaws of her teammates, Leliana straightened her back and spoke.

"I think what Morrigan means is, have you spoken to Solona about this personally?"

"No. She's not exactly speaking to anyone," Alistair began glumly, "I wish I knew what to say. Everytime I try to talk to her I start fumbling over my words. Worse than usual, I mean."

It is the same when I try to speak to her. Her not talking, I mean. I never fumble." Zevran piped in.

The group stared at him, their mouths gaping.

"Is failing to assassinate a target not called 'fumbling' in your country, elf?" Sten asked.

The company was in stitches. Zevran could only manage a sheepish, good-natured shrug. Once the laughter died down, a considerably lengthy period later, Leliana spoke seriously.

"Boys, she's hurt. And confused. And she loves you both and is shocked by her own feelings. She can't choose, knowing that one of you will inevitably hurt and she can't bear to continue not choosing because it hurts you both in the balance. Can you not see it?"

"And it's only making it worse with you two parading around like hurt monkeys." Morrigan added.

Wynne then stood.

"You young men need to find a solution that keeps you both from acting like undisciplined novices. There is much more at stake here than your hearts, as important as they are. Let us not forget the Blight in all of this."

"Yes, Wynne. Of course you're right." Alistair replied, flashing her one of his most charming smiles he used to reserve for the Revered Mother in times of need.

"My old bones are too weary for generous smiles, Grey Warden." Wynne stated with mock solemnity and excused herself to her tent.

* * *

One by one, they made their way to their tents and bedrolls. They had a journey to complete, like it or no. The Antivan and the Prince remained a moment longer.

"Denerim, then? Once we're settled in the city?"

"Yes. And let's try not to glare. Glaring seems to set her off."

"You may be onto something, Warden."

They looked at each other, eye-to-eye, and shook hands resolutely. They slept somewhat better knowing that a conclusion was on it's way. The stars twinkled above the group and the moon scooted along the treeline. The night darkened as the company slept.

Sometime later, Rex perked up again. He sniffed the air and growled a low, deep, almost inaudible rumble. Sten's eyes opened at the hound's warning and his mind became clear with recognition. Jumping to his feet and swinging his greatsword over his head, he bellowed, as a warning to his comrades and an invitation to his enemies.

"SPAWN!"

 


	4. Ambushed

**Chapter 4**

_Ambushed_

     Had Solona or Alistair, or both, been awake they would have reacted even before Rex. In the moments before Rex and Sten’s alarm, they both stirred uncomfortable in their sleep. They were seconds away from waking overly hot, itchy, and somewhat frightened. Sten’s air rattling cry served only to confirm what their taint-addled blood already knew.

 

     It was only a fraction of a second before they and the others were on their feet. Weapons in hand, they heard the rustling and groaning of the horde before they saw them. It was not the first time they had been set upon, but it was clearly the largest horde they’d ever fought. The darkspawn were spreading with frightening speed. From all corners of the clearing in the woods were the sounds of hacking and slashing, the whirring of elemental and arcane bolts, the distorted yelps of the spawn. 

 

     Morrigan recited an old incantation with a smirk on her face and her body burst forth with all the extra limbs and hair of a spider. She jumped at a hurlock and sank her fangs (and effectively, her venom) into it. As she jumped away, she watched it wretch and cry before falling to the ground dead. Leliana was releasing arrows and alternately knifing spawn in their backs. She was an oddly graceful sight amongst the crowd that fell to the ground around her. A slight misstep caused her to stumble and she couldn’t counter an attack fast enough. With a hiss, Morrigan leapt into action shooting the spawn down with a blast of tight, sticky silk. Leliana smiled at the overly large spider, stabbed the spawn with an arrow, tipped her hand in a short salute, and bounded off with her bow in hand. 

 

     Sten and Ohgren led the charge through the thickest groups. Sten’s voice echoed through the trees as he swung his sword, killing two and three darkspawn at a time. 

     “The Qun rejects your vile taint!” he bellowed.

     Ohgren fought maniacally, cackling, and counting each body that fell before him. Behind him was Wynne, fatigued but ready, standing relatively still as she deftly doled out healing spells and bone crushing elemental blasts.

 

     Zevran fought some feet away from Alistair, but equidistant, out of habit, from Solona. He had a terrifying, dark smile on his face as he worked his blades with ease through the horde. He was lithe, quick, and for all the threat of death, happy to spread his particular talent among this vast number of animalistic brutes. 

 

     Alistair was a sight in battle. Equal parts discipline, skill, and strength. He was, thanks to his blood, always aware of where the spawn were and blocked and swung accordingly. He was also, thanks to their shared Warden status and because he was so used to carefully eyeing her, always aware of where Solona was. He knew she could hold her own, but the nature of a mage’s role called for being kept from the most direct attacks.

 

     In other battles, Alistair and Zevran could take a moment to admire her. She liked to find high ground, but had no qualms with remaining level with the rest. You could sometimes see her mana shield around her glittering in the sun. She watched like a predatory bird. Her wavy, mahogany hair flowed around her heart shaped ace and her stone blue eyes glowed with concentration before she would open her palm to send a well-timed jut of solid rock, or blast of fire or ice or electricity into the face of an enemy. She could stand amongst a crown and bring them to their knees with the flick of her wrist or glue someone to the spot where they would scream in agony as if being crushed.

 

     She could heal if she needed to, but was not yet a master at it. She could also force targets into terrifying, Fade-born dreams or suck the very life force out of them, but she rarely did. Those sorts of spells brought out a darkness in her that she did not like to entertain if the situation wasn’t truly dire.

 

     And this battle was becoming dire indeed. She reached deep into her bag of tricks, sparing none. They cut through the spawn with their usual proficiency, but there seemed to be no end to the beasts. The group shot glances at each other in disbelief. Were they imagining it? They fought on and on and as the faintest hint of light was on the horizon, there was still hardly a dent in the horde. They were tiring and there was no way to flee. 

 

     Solona fought off her exhaustion and the aching feeling that came when her mana began to waver. She fought hard to concentrate, but her concentration was broken by a surprising cry.

     “Back to the tunnels forever with you!”

     It was Bodahn. For several weeks now, he had been receiving lessons in sword wielding from whoever was free enough to teach him. He was old, he admitted, and not a fighter, but he didn’t like being a complete liability. Sandal also received some instruction with a dagger, but he had his own strange means of protection. In fights, they would sometimes hear unembodied booms and knew that Sandal was at it again, speaking to his runes and charms like only he knew how.

 

     Suddenly Bodahn was knocked to the ground. His sword flew in the opposite direction. The genlock responsible stood over him laughing that deep, guttural, distorted laugh all spawn seemed to have. Bodahn looked up at the tainted creature with a proud, fiercely determined look that Solona had never seen cross the kind dwarf’s face. And she lost all control. With a quick blast, she knocked a hurlock into a tree with bone crushing force. She broke into a run towards Bodahn. _No one will die on this day_ , she swore, _nothing and no one will be taken from us._

Her comrades saw her sudden flight and called out to her. She had little cover now and those nearest fought desperately to get to her side. Her sprint ended in a skid where she dropped her staff and retrieved Bodahn’s fallen sword. She swung back and roared. The gunlock turned quickly and Bodahn’s eyes widened in awe. Solona cleaved the blade into the skull of the spawn. She dragged the sword back and the corpse fell to the ground.

 

     Turning she slashed and stabbed through the path of spawn in her way. She reached her staff and retrieved it, dropping the sword to the ground. With a shockingly mighty yell, a cloud of dense mana gathered around her. She could faintly hear the calls of her comrades around her. It was like being underwater. None among them knew what was happening. Was she succumbing to the darker call of the Fade? No. This was not the birth of an abomination. 

 

     The mana cloud swirled itself into a tight ball around her. She thrust her staff into the ground, looked up, and the balls exploded. The shockwave spread with unimaginable force and speed. The party braced themselves for a blast that did not come, but watched the darkspawn horde wail as they took the brunt of it. The strange blue particles pierced the spawn and they disintegrated like so many pillars of ash.

 

     Solona looked up at the clearing. She staggered. All were bounding towards her. She crumbled to the ground just as they reached her and Bodahn caught her head. Alistair and Zevran hovered nervously. She looked up past their faces and to the sky. The first real light of dawn was beaming in the clouds. Solona smiled softly and finally allowed the exhaustion to sweep over her, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	5. Warden Reanimated and the Prophecy

Chapter 5

_Warden Reanimated and The Prophecy_

 

* * *

Five days after the ambush, Solona's eyes slowly flickered open. She took a moment to become acclimated to the sunlight pouring in only slightly muted by the thick tan colored cloth of the tent. She smelled a pleasant, earthy aroma-stock, herbs, and seared meat. She sat up slowly and stretched softly and jumped in surprise at the sight of Morrigan sitting a few feet away with a bowl and a small book in her lap.

"Good morning, Sleeping Warden." Morrigan chimed, smirking.

"Morrigan! Thank you," Solona shifted and rubbed her face "Good morning. What time is it?"

"Mid-morning. Sunrise was about four hours ago."

"The battle did end then?"

"Oh, yes. The battle ended," Morrigan confirmed, handing Solona the bowl of soup, "Five days ago."

"Five days?" Solona exclaimed, nearly spraying her mouthful of soup into her lap. "I've been asleep for five days?"

"Yes."

Solona continued eating with vigor. _Five days_ , she thought, _no wonder I'm so hungry_. She remembered the ambush and she remembered running to Bodahn's aid. She remembered the blast, the darkspawn wailing in defeat, and the pink light in the clouds. _Wait, the blast! What are we doing? Why are we in the same camp?_ A look of horror spread across her face and she turned to Morrigan who spoke calmly.

"Yes, it is the same campsite. But 'tis safe. I'll explain everything, but you have to remain calm. We're under strict order to alert the group the moment you awaken and I need to speak with you privately before the caravan of lovers descends upon you."

_Alistair and Zevran! I have to see them! Wait, speak privately? Can't it wait?_

"I'm afraid it's imperative for you to hear now. No one's going anywhere. On my word."

"Sorry. Yes. I just. . ." Solona replied, smiling sheepishly.

"Well. It's been five days since the ambushed. Do you remember the battle?"

"Yes, but it gets blurry after I run over to Bodahn."

"At that moment, Warden Warrior Princess, you charged the darkspawn with a BLADE-that you have never wielded in your LIFE-and cut them down before unleashing a wave of magic the likes of which I've never experienced. The darkspawn vanished, if that is the word for it, and you passed out."

Solona stared, wide-eyed "Oh."

"The magic burst spread and for some five miles in all direction we've been shrouded in a veil of magic. No man, or spawn, has crossed the barrier since. We've had no need to move."

"But Denerim! We need to get there!"

"We couldn't move until we knew what was wrong with you. Besides had we been set upon again, a sleeping Warden would have been a great liability."

Solona chuckled at the rude truth of the situation.

"Morrigan, my magic has never felt like that. I don't know how I did it. I don't know if I could do it again. I don't know if I can control it if it did happen again. And could I hurt my friends or Ferelden with it?"

She had finished her soup and the bowl and spoon sat dry in her lap. There was a moment of silence before Morrigan spoke again.

 

* * *

"That's what  we needed to speak about." Morrigan answered, pulling the small volume from her lap. Solona perked up curiously.

"This was in my mother's things that you brought back after your...visit to her. It was on top of several more curious tomes and items and I feel she meant it for you. In fact, I'm certain had it occurred to her sooner, she would have put it in my things the day we left the Wilds."

"I can't imagine Flemeth wanting to give me anything. I mean, she seemed to know I was coming to kill her."

"I suspect she needs you to reach the potential outlined in this volume to help ease her re-entrance into the world. Or whatever it is she planned to do."

Solona raised an eyebrow.

"It is a prophecy of sorts," Morrigan clarified, handing Solona the book "Some years ago, my mother came across a caravan of apostates in the Wilds. Amongst them was a seer and around the fire one night, she told this prophecy. My mother so dutifully recorded it and the next morning the caravan was set upon by Templars."

The witch paused to gauge the Warden's reaction and then continued.

"It's meant for you. It tells of a mage-a female mage from a time of dragons-who commands a strange and wonderful power. It's supposedly a mastery of all arcane branches and schools. This 'female mage from a time of dragons' has humble beginnings and saves her nation with the help of an 'army of various races'. Something in her actions helps to bring about a new era for mages. A time with no Circle."

"A time with no Circle? Are you mad? You know I'm not precisely the fondest of it, but you can't just dissolve it. It would be chaos. There's steps to take! You can't just chop it off and watch it flounder! There's PEOPLE involved on BOTH side of the-"

"That's beside the point, Solona! It doesn't even say you get rid of it without warning, though my feelings would not be hurt..."

"But Morrigan, it cannot possibly be about me anyway. I'm talented, but I'm no 'master of every arcane branch and school.' The chances of saving Ferelden are slim to none. I do have a band of misfits, but that does not a prophecy make!"

"Your obstinacy is one of your least flattering traits, you know."

"I am not obsti-" the chestnut haired mage began, and then blushed "Well, you're one to talk."

"The similarities are astounding," Morrigan said, motioning to the book "Coupled with the fact that your little outburst the other day has my unbiased magical knowledge and Wynne's preternatural skill-I figured it out for myself. I know you're sworn to secrecy.-completely mystified. Flemeth, who despite her obvious flaws was vastly talented and wise, saw it. I see it. It's meant for you. Just take and study it. I'll help you. At the very least, you'll learn something new."

 

* * *

Solona sighed in disbelief as she stared at the pages. She wondered at the strange symbols and odd phrases.

"Alright." she acquiesced "I'll study it. It has to be better than learning the proper way to wield a sword anyway. That was so...grossly personal."

Both girls eyes glistened with laughter.

"Come," said Morrigan "Let's get you cleaned and ready to greet your army. And the two men who have been wringing their hands every time they think no one is looking."

Solona was a little stiff after being in bed for so long. She washed her face and Morrigan helped her into her robe. Morrigan pulled the tent flap back and surveyed the group, all busy with various small chores. She stepped out and cleared her throat, drawing their gazes up. They all rose hesitantly, except for Alistair who dropped an armful of steel scraps meant for the blacksmith in Denerim and Zevran who hastily tossed a vial of poison to the ground, and came to the tent.

Solona walked out into the morning light and smiled warmly at her comrades before they descended upon her with a great, joyous clamor.

 


	6. Reunions, Promises, and Propositions

Chapter 6

_Reunions, Promises, and Propositions_

 

“Warden!” they exclaimed, wrapping their arms around her and patting her back and shoulders. She was jostled between them like a skin of cheap wine. She smiled wide in all directions, somewhat surprised at the outpouring of love and relief. She found herself pushed into a wall of impossibly huge muscle. She looked up Sten who greeted her with a strong arm lock.

“The saarebas should be restrained…But I knew Kadan could not be defeated by her own magic.” 

“Only you have the honor of sending me to the ground, Sten.”

She smiled and Sten gave one of his rare half-smiles. He squeezed her arm once more and stepped back to let the others have her attention. She was about to turn to find another familiar face when she was greeted by a hard slap on her backside. 

“Warden! Warden, you did it! You sent those nug humpers back to the stone! Er, the Maker? You sent them back to. . .” Oghren paused, “You killed them all!”

“Almost all. I heard your count get over forty. Not bad for a dirt licker like you.” Solona mocked playfully.

He laughed good-naturedly “Heh heh, good swordsmanship, Warden! That little poker must have been so heavy!”

Rex then knocked into the dwarf’s legs, knocking him back a few feet. The hound bounded happily at Solona’s feet. She leaned down and took his face between her hands, petting him behind the ears. “Good boy, handsome.” she crooned.

Leliana and Wynne came foreward and hugged Solona warmly. Bodahn and Sandal came next. Taking her hands into his, Bodahn, with a small quiver in his voice, spoke.

“Miss Warden, I don’t know what exactly to say for something like this. But thank you. Sandal and I don’t know what we . . .Er, thank you.”

“Lady is best friend.” Sandal added.

Solona squeezed Bodahn’s hands reassuringly.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m thankful I reached you in time and I would do it again.”

“All the same. Oh, oh! Here,” he took something from Sandal “You know I’ve been saving these for some time, but there’s no one who could wear them as well as you. No one else who… deserves their beauty.” 

He pressed a pair of earrings into her hand. They all knew he had been trying to sell them for the longest time. All the ladies in the camp admired their beauty, but none could afford the luxury at such a time. They all assumed he managed to unload them on a noble lady in a brief city stop. But there they were—medium sized, round amethyst studs, cut with shining, precise facets, set in gold. Solona put them in her ears immediately and hugged Bodahn. _This must be_ , she thought, _what a grandfather or uncle is like_. She stepped back, wiping the corner of her eye.

“So,” a voice interjected. They all looked up at Zevran standing expectantly. Alistair was beside him and they both had reached the limits of their patience. “Do you need more rest? When do we make for Denerim to bring this bastard Loghain to justice?”

“I am rested enough. Pack today, we leave tomorrow at dawn.” Solona announced boldly. “It’s almost lunch. What are our food stores like? Eggs? Butter? Flour?”

“Yes. I can magic some. Yes.” came a female voice.

“Good. Sandal, I’m going to make you a pie.”

 

Everyone excitedly made busy and smartly gave Solona, Alistair, and Zevran a wide berth. The trio were finally alone finally. Solona embraced them both, tears welling in her eyes. They walked to the far corner of camp and sat in the shade of a large tree by the pond. The sun poured through the leaves and cast speckled shadows on the ground and the trio. No one knew exactly how to begin, so they sat silently for a minute. Zevran looked up and took Solona’s hand.

“Forgive me. Forgive us. We’ve acted like fools.”

“We pushed you,” Alistair added, “And then we nearly lost you. And…Oh, Maker, we nearly lost you.”

At the pronouncement, Alistair’s voice wavered and Zevran looked away and furrowed his brow.

“Shh. No. Alistair, Zevran…It’s fine. I’m fine. You both could have been silent as golden children and I still would have been riddled with confliction. And, look!” Solona exclaimed, pressing their hands to her heart, “I’m still here. You haven’t lost me.”

“I’ve never been so scared of something that wasn’t a sharpened knife at my throat before.” Zevran said, his usual grin returning.

“But I did have a sword for awhile!” the Lady Warden quipped.

They burst into laughter. Solona reclined in the grass while the men sat upright against the tree on either side of her. After their laughter died down, Solona spoke softly.

“I love you. Both of you. I can’t explain it and I don’t know how it happened. I never meant to lead you on or confuse you. I never meant to split myself in two so that neither of you had the whole. I wish I could give you both an answer, but I don’t have one. Everything is so deranged right now. I love you both, but there’s no such thing as a promise during Blight. …Is there?”

“Only the ones you’re ready to make.” Alistair answered.

“For now,” Zevran announced “Let us rejoice that you have been restored to us. We have a journey to prepare for and I hear you’re making the young dwarf a pie. I hope you make extra. I have been craving something…sweet.”

They embraced again and knew they had to rejoin the group. They packed their non-essential items and Solona began cooking and baking. The day passed in a delightful frenzy. They all went to bed that night full and happy. Even if they could not defeat the Archdemon, they felt renewed enough to greet the next day, the next journey, the next battle. It was better than they had felt in some time and they were glad to feel their purpose once more. They were bold, strong, and courageous, but they were not automatons. 

Late that night when the camp was filled with the soft sounds of sleep, Solona went out to the pond alone. She stood in the moonlight and stepped into the cool water. Her thin nightgown became translucent and clingy as she floated leisurely in the cool water. She felt the water envelope her and the water plants on the floor of the pond tickle her calves and feet. As she luxuriated in the water, she was startled by the sound of approaching footsteps. Alistair and Zevran stood on the bank, looking comfortably handsome in tunics and rough-spun pants. _So different without their armor_ , she thought, _but so the same_. 

Something in the air told her this wasn’t going to be the casual conversation of that afternoon. She suddenly felt embarrassed of her nakedness and thought of hiding, of staying in the water, of joking…anything to mask the fragility she felt. But now was the time to stand before these two men with all the bare honesty she could muster. She swam to the edge, stepped out, and stood a few feet away from them. “Hello.” She greeted, softly.

The men’s countenances shifted as they took in the sight of her. Their eyes widened as they watched the moonlight glisten on the beads of water as they glided down her skin. They gulped silently.

“We were speaking…” Zevran began.

“And we have a proposition for you.” Alistair finished.


	7. Things in Threes: A Charm

Chapter 7

_Things in Threes: A Charm_

Zevran produced a small shawl Solona hadn’t seen noticed he carried and wrapped it around her shoulders while Alistair spread a larger blanket on the ground beneath the tree. The elf took Solona by the arm and led her to the blanket.

“Alistair and I have had a frank discussion today. We have come to realize that there is no typical solution to the dilemma we face.”

“We see that you do, in fact, love us both,” Alistair added “We see that you want to belong to us both. Equally and separately, but still simultaneously.”

“And that is precisely what we are proposing, my lovely Lady Warden.” Zevran cited with finality.

Solona stared at them in confusion, mouth open in a small ‘O’, eyebrows furrowed, head tilted to the side. She inhaled to speak, but was interrupted by Alistair.

“We want to, well, share you. If you’ll let us. We want to have your love and devotion and we want to give you ours. We can’t split you and neither of us wants to be without you.”

“But, Alistair, how in the Maker’s name is that ‘equal’? For me it’s clearly a fine solution, but for you two…it isn’t right! You’re both so, so wonderful. You deserve more than some mere half-share in a woman’s heart. And what would that even make you to each other?!”

“Something like best friends with very little in the way of boundaries.” quipped Zevran, who was enjoying the look of sweet shock on Solona’s face. “It’s not typical, we understand. But neither are we, nor is our situation. I see your apprehension, your confusion…but fear not, we will show you what we mean. When you know your heart’s answer, tell us and know we will accept it.”

 

There was a moment of quiet before Alistair reached over and loosened the wet cling of her nightgown. He leaned in and whispered hoarsely in her ear, “Solona, may I…?” She blushed and acquiesced and finally found herself completely nude before the two men. Before she allowed her torso to be guided gently to the ground, she stole one last glance at their faces. Their expressions danced with delight, but were as caring and earnest as always. _They mean it_ , she thought. She then yielded entirely and both men, in turn and together, helped bring her to their mutual understanding.

It was a series of gentle yet urgent moments. Everything was so strange and sensual and symbolic. In the cool of the night, they rocked and melded into each other. They remained quiet for some time after they finished. There was little to say and no desire to lessen the surreal experience by discussing it so immediately. Solona only opened her mouth after she realized that her actual answer was still left unspoken.

“It’s so strange and yet…I understand. I know my answer. I’ll be yours, and yours,” she motioned to both men in turn, “for as long as I fulfill you both. Under one condition.”

The men’s heads lolled over to stare at her with silent laughter. _Provisos_ , they seemed to say, _naturally_.

“If it doesn’t work for you, you tell me. If it stops feeling right, you tell me. If your feelings for me ever cease—“  

Alistair interrupted her by pressing his forefinger against her lips. “And you too will offer us the same open honesty.”

She nodded her head in agreement and the three fell asleep, Solona happily nestled between Alistair and Zevran. They woke just before dawn and had enough time to wash quickly and redress before the rest of the camp rose. If the others had heard their activities, they did not let on they knew. It did soon become obvious to all that the three had finally struck an accord. They were all relieved that the matter had been resolved, even if they did not know how such a dynamic was supposed to work.

They packed their bedrolls and tents, had a quick breakfast, put out their fire and were finally on their way again. They didn’t bother hiding the traces of their nearly week-long camp site. They didn’t know how long the enchantment around the clearing would last, but it had protected them from the darkspawn thus far and if any of Loghain’s men were still tracking them, they were on their way to Denerim as it was.

Morrigan had been huddled by a tree just before they left. She was busy magicking a medium sized plaque into the bark. She mentioned her addition to no one as she knew Solona would not have approved of leaving such a thing behind _. She may too humble to acknowledge what she could and would become_ , thought Morrigan, _but soon enough all of Thedas will_. So she left the plaque secretly on the tree. It read: 

THE WARDEN’S CLEARING

In 9:31 Dragon, the Warden Mage, Solona Amell, and her band fought against a darkspawn ambush of unimaginable size and ferocity. Just as the sun rose over the trees, the group seemed to be overrun. 

In this very place, in their moment of darkest fear, the Warden Mage called forth her true power for the first time. The darkspawn suffered an overwhelming defeat, the clearing was preserved, and the road to end the Blight was cleared.

May this serve as a reminder that there is no evil which cannot be overcome and no power that cannot be wielded for the good of all.

 

It seemed a practical thing to be left, but Morrigan was also glad to do it for Solona’s unbidden sake. A girl like her deserved recognition for her toils: joining a fabled order known for their sacrifice with little question to what it means for herself, fixing problems of entire races, marching toward the Archdemon for the sake of a land that she loved, but had done little for people of her talent set without even excessive complaints…Morrigan was surprised at the feelings of fondness and familiarity she had for Solona _. Probably better than any long lost Witch Sister that Flemeth may or may not have been hiding_ , she thought _. A sister, how novel_ … 

 

When the group was down the road some way, Solona decided to tell the rest of her companions about this alleged prophecy. She figured they ought to know, if it were true, they _were_ mentioned in it as well. Her obvious disbelief and self-effacing explanation brought out the most jovial, over-the-top jesting from her friends. It may very well be true, they all agreed, but Solona’s dramatic and insistent rejection amongst the people she’d grown to know, and who grew to know her, so well was unnecessary and especially humorous.

“O, most Solemn, Prophesied One! Let me soften the blows of the very ground to your magical feet!” Ohgren cried as he threw a plant frond before her feet, much to the wild amusement of the group. Solona took the joke with a rueful grin and Rex nudged against her reassuringly. She laughed then for her meek protests amongst her friends and Ohgren’s joke were, in fact, funny.

They moved along to Denerim with some haste and finally entered the city in high spirits. Upon arrival, they rented a few rooms at The Gnawed Noble to tie up some loose ends before going to Arl Eamon’s estate to stay for the Landsmeet. They soon found the city was recently filled with a hard, urgent, anxious air that would not allow the ease with which the past days were filled to last.

 


	8. The Stale City Air

Chapter 8

_The Stale City Air_

Arl Eamon welcomed the assorted crew happily, ready to attend to the business that awaited them. The estate staff eyed the more foreign members of the party suspiciously. Alistair was certainly a welcome sight and Solona seemed alright by extension, despite her being a mostly unsupervised mage. But then there was the woman from Orlais, the polite, yet overly anecdotal older mage, and a younger mage who wore little more than feathers, undergarments, and a permanent scowl. There was a foul- mannered dwarf, a handsome, yet too sly elf, and an intimidating too silent giant. There was another pair of dwarves-father and son-who were polite enough and minded themselves and a mabari hound who garnered grins and affectionate head pats as long as he stayed out of the kitchen. They were, nevertheless, given what comforts there were to be had. None of the staff would risk the consequences of disrespecting guests of the Arl.

The company themselves, however, were suddenly on edge with each other. The soft, indoor beds and fresh, proper meals became the only saving graces in their change of scenery. The city air seemed to agitate even Rex and the stone walls of the sizeable estate compressed and intensified every small grievance. Conversations became curt and clipped; disagreements seemed larger than they were and quickly led to contemptuous stares and raised voices.

After breakfast one morning, Leliana found Solona studying in the library. Their conversation began friendly enough and its direction turned to the subject of the Lovers Three. It didn’t strike Solona as odd initially; it was a rather curious subject. After a moment, Leliana’s seemingly innocent questions took a serious tone.

“You know, the Maker only ever took one Bride…” the Orlesian began cautiously.

“And Andraste also had an earthly husband. What of it, Lel?”

“I’m just wondering if it’s really right, what you three are doing. If it’s fair…”

“Well,” Solona began, picking her words carefully, “it’s complicated and we’re doing the best we know how to do. Thanks for your concern, but it’s a mostly private matter.”

“I just think there are lines that are best left alone. You never know when you’ll cross one. In the sisterhood, we learn the values of living chastely…unselfishly.”

Solona was so taken aback by the statement that she gathered her books and stood to leave the room. She reached the door and finally managed to speak. “And what did you learn before the sisterhood, Leliana?”

She turned and made for her quarters with anger boiling in her chest. _For all the tales she tells that are rife with deceit and debauchery, THIS is the line she thinks has been crossed?_ She bounded up a flight of stairs and tripped, sending her armful of books flying. _Andraste’s flaming tits!_ She screamed in her mind, not wanting to cause more of a spectacle than she already had. _Please let no one come help…_ A servant came from the opposite corridor and quick-walked to Solona’s, taking her arm and helping her up.

“Are you alright, miss? Should I send for someone?”

“No, no…” Solona winced, “unless you know someone who makes bruises disappear.” She chuckled, rubbing the soft flesh of her upper arm that had met a raised floor stone in the fall.

“Forgive me if this is too bold a question…Couldn’t magic do that?”

“Mm-mm,” Solona replied, shaking her head, “A talented healer could possibly reverse some of the pain, if they could concentrate their magic on the deeper sinew under the skin, but it would still remain discolored. For things like this, it’s optimal to let them heal on their own anyway.”

“Oh!” the girl replied, voice filled with wonder, “I’m sorry, miss, I just find magic so fascinating. I’ve never known a mage long enough to really talk with them. I was going to ask your companions some things, but they seem to be…busy.” She motioned with a nod of her head to an open door where raised voices could be heard.

“That must be Wynne and Morrigan. They’re of, um, two different schools of thought…”

The girl laughed. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, miss. The Arl wouldn’t like me shirking my duties or taking up your time.” 

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell him.”

The girl grinned and made her way down the hall. Solona gathered her books again and padded down in the opposite direction towards the open door. The voices became clear as she approached.

“I just think your sudden desire to help someone so personally is a little suspect.”

“Oh, and I suppose the threat of the Blight isn’t personal for me? What is it you expect I shall do when the Archdemon appears? Turn into dust?” Morrigan retorted defensively.

“Then you wouldn’t mind showing me that book, if your motives are as innocent as you claim.”

“It isn’t my book to show! Ask the Warden herself if you’re so damned keen on it. Why it’s so important for you to see, I know not. Or perhaps it’s that dear “Spirit” you’ve been harboring who’d like a look at it?”

“You can stop your insinuating now, witch! I’ll see that book and keep your corruption in check, like it or no.”

Solona turned into the doorway and looked at the women imploringly. “Is something wrong?”

“Ask the Circle’s pet.” Morrigan spat, leaving the room. Solona turned to Wynne.

“You and she have become close, I know, but do not let that cloud your judgment. That book is as vile as she who gave it to you. Do not trust it or her, I urge you.”

With that Wynne all but pushed Solona from the room and shut the door. Solona stood on the landing as perplexed as she had been when she left Leliana in the library. _Corruption? Vile?_ She knew they didn’t get along, but this was a bit much. _Especially from Wynne._ She went to her quarters intent on forgetting about the morning entirely. Around noon meal she looked up to see Alistair proper against the doorway.

“Zev and I are heading out. Care for some fresh air?”

“Maker, yes!” Solona exclaimed as she swung her legs off the bed. She slipped into her boots and gathered her coin purse. Zevran was by the kitchen waiting for them and Solona whistled for Rex, who bounded quickly to her side. The four were glad to leave the bickering behind, at least for a little while.

The mean made their stops and Solona wandered off to her favorite shop, The Wonders of Thedas. Rex waited for her just outside the door. The Tranquil mage who ran the shop disliked finding dog slobber on his artifacts. Sometime later, Solona heard an impatient whine from outside. She paid for her things-a book on the study of mana and more efficient ways of wielding it and a less serious work of fiction that the proprietor gave her at a steep discount as it was not in keeping with the level of magical quality he liked to uphold-collected her hound and made for the center of the market where she could see Alistair and Zevran waiting for her.

“More books, Alistair. Plan to not see her lovely face until the Archdemon appears.” Zevran chided playfully.

The group began to make their way back to the estate, but decided to make a stop at their favorite tavern instead. It was several blocks away, but not too long a walk. People filled the streets, all too busy to notice the group or even begin to care about the intricacies of their strange romantic set up. The perspective was refreshing.

Solon was just about to comment on what a wonderful idea the outing had been when they crossed into an alley that was eerily quiet and still. A few feet in, Rex took a step back. Zevran stopped abruptly, turned at an angle in front of the group and lifted his fist as a signal for silence. His face bore the look of perfect concentration as he slipped back and sharply surveyed the alley’s shadows and seemingly empty balconies above.

Alistair slowly drew his sword, Rex wound back on his haunches and Solona began to draw her mana to her with clenched fists. They approached the stone stairs leading to the through-way to the tavern with caution. They were only half surprised to see a human figure step out of the shadows at the top on the stairs.

“So, here is the mighty Grey Warden at long last! The Crows send their greetings once again. And where is Zevran? I don’t see him with you. How very disappointing…”

“Here I am, Taliesin.” 


	9. Things in Threes: Crowds

**Chapter 9**

_Things in Threes: Crowds_

“Tell me- were you sent or did you volunteer for the job?” Zevran questioned boldly.

“Oh ho! And he makes an appearance!” Taliesin answered, “I volunteered, of course! When I heard the Great Zevran had gone rogue, I simply had to see it for myself.”

“Is that so? Well, here I am. In the flesh.”

Solona and Alistair exchanged glances, unsure of what was coming next. Zevran crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“You can return with me, Zevran. I know why you did this and I don’t blame you. It’s not too late,” Taliesin pleaded, “Come back and we’ll make up a story. Anyone can make a mistake.”

Zevran shifted one eye to Solona who avoided his gaze. “You’re your own man now, Zevran. You’re not a Crow. And you don’t need them.” She said quietly, warring inside with her faith and trust in Zevran and the knowledge that he also longed for home. Zevran wrapped his hand around her wrist and squeezed reassuringly _. I know_ , he tried to convey, _I’m yours_. He looked up at Taliesin.

“That is not likely to happen. You’re going to lose, Taliesin. You’re going to lose badly. You should have stayed in Antiva.”

“You’ve gone soft in the head! The Crows will make you pray for death, fool!”

“Perhaps they will at that. I will take what time I have left.”

The Crows, former and current, stared at each other silently pleading and gauging the others words and intent. Zevran heaved a sigh. He saw the outcome that awaited them. But, still. . .

“You have a choice, Taliesin. All of you do.”

Taliesin’s face shifted from pleading to shock to disgust. His lip curled as he spoke the last word he ever would. “Traitor.”

The battle was short and, aside from a very brief moment that Taliesin himself caught Solona by a twisted arm with his blade ready to drag across her neck, anti-climactic. Solona managed to jut the blunt end of her staff into Taliesin’s gut and shoot a small arcane bolt at him as she scrambled away. The potentially fatal incident left her with only a small red cut just below her collarbone. Zevran was upon his former friend in the instant Solona was safely away. The usual dark grin he wore during battle was missing.

When Taliesin and his crew lay dead, Alistair turned his gaze to Zevran. “You!” he screamed with a slight heave in his chest, “You and your damned…past!” The ex-Templar shoved the elf’s shoulder. Zevran stumbled back a step.

“Do not,” the Antivan began, “place your hands on me again, Alistair.”

“Alistair, don’t!” Solona firmly interjected, “We have to go. I’m okay, but we need to go NOW.”

“Okay?! That man- that CROW -put his blade to your throat!” Alistair swung his head back to Zevran, “Her throat, Zevran! I’ll kill him! Maker help me, I’ll kill him!”

“He’s dead already, Alistair.”

“I’ll kill him twice! Her throat, Zevran!”

“And did I not cut his chest open for it?! Did I not kill him myself?!”

“How many more Crows will be coming for you? Will they offer to let you go home too? Will you take them up on it or will you let them kill all of us and then drag you back?”

“Watch your tongue, bastard.” Zevran growled.

“Oh, ‘bastard’, is it? ‘Bastard’, am I? Did I hear that right, _Whoreson_?”

A split second before they descended upon each other in a flurry of arms, rustling was heard at the back end of the alley. Rex rushed to an old wooden door and sniffed. Smelling nothing but mold and dust, he grunted for the others to open it. They slipped through the door, careful to not disturb the overgrowth of weeds and give their escape route away. They walked to the front of the abandoned building and rejoined the public from the front door. The news that evening would be of the five dead men found in an alley, all bearing the emblem of the Antivan Crows. The Crows, in the very heart of Ferelden…

They returned to the Arl’s estate and went in through the back, though it did little to lessen the commotion they caused. They went directly to Solona’s quarters and began throwing off arms and armor brusquely, intent on tearing into each other with their bare hands. They grappled each other in a hopeless attempt to erase their anger and fear. Alistair shoved Zevran against the stone wall and wrapped the crook of his arm around the elf’s neck, his bicep squeezing tightly. The lithe elf struggled for a moment or so before slipping cleanly away and positioning himself behind Alistair. He kicked the strong, but slower human’s legs out from under him and as Alistair fell to his stomach the elf scrambled to pin him down and render him immobile.

Solona watched their display of frustration with shock. She yelled at them to stop, she threatened to set a swarm of stinging insects on their heads, and she finally threw herself on the floor and tried to wrench them apart. “Stop it! Stop it, you damned idiots!” she cursed at them, pounding their backs fiercely with her fists. Finally Alistair succeeded in shoving Zevran off and Solona stumbled back. Zevran backed away quickly and readied to charge again. Solona had just enough time to stand upright and throw herself to the middle of the room. The men hurdled toward each other and the mage drew up a quick shield around her. The men collided with it and were subsequently knocked back, windless and shocked.

“Enough!” Solona bellowed, her chestnut hair disheveled, “That is enough!”

The men slowly began to straighten themselves. Solona looked up to see that Rex must have left some time ago. She felt a pang of guilt. He disliked arguments. Zevran stood straight and fixed the bookshelf he slammed into. He noticed his gloves and other pieces of his leather armor on the floor that he hadn’t remembered taking off. Alistair rubbed his back and frowned. They pick up their things and the three sat and stared at each other awkwardly for some time.

Slowly and cautiously, Alistair began to speak. “How ma- …will there be more Crows coming for you?”

“No, I suspect not.”

“Good. Because we all could have died today. For your past.”

“Alistair! We all knew they’d come eventually.” Solona reiterated, “I knew when I decided to spare him. It’s not his fault. It’s over now and we’re fine.”

“Fine? Hm…How’s that cut?”

“Barely a scr-“

“Did you not see me kill him myself?! Did you not see my own blade sink into his flesh? Alistair, tell me- do you comprehend what I’ve done today? Do you recall the night I told you both of Taliesin, my only real comrade amongst the Crows? When the loyalty of the only other soul I’ve ever…loved was called into question, it was his advice I took. I killed her myself for a betrayal that proved to be imaginary. Did you see the choice I made today? I didn’t slink back to Antiva or the Crows. I stayed. I fought. And I killed the threat of Taliesin and all the Crows myself.”

“Oh, yes…” Alistair replied, a slight degree more calmly, “Rinna and that sordid business…”

Solona stared at him wide-eyed. Alistair realized too late he’d inadvertently said the wrong thing.

“Yes, Alistair! More of my past! Have I ever not been forthcoming about it?! Solona, you are so quiet now. Do you dislike hearing of it as well? Do you prefer a background like Alistair’s? A dear man with some impressionability left in him?”

“Zevran, when have I ev-“

“Don’t you speak to her like that!”

“Don’t you speak for me!”

“Oh, so you do prefer Zevran and his bag of never ending Antivan tricks?”

“What in the Maker’s name are you talking about?!”

“Oh, I know many things preferable to little abbey boys, Alistair.”

You know what? I can’t even stand the sight of you right now.”

“Don’t leave, Alistair!”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Zevran!”

And the two men left the room. Alistair went to the Arl’s study and Zevran to the most remote corner of the library. Solona wasn’t entirely sure how the afternoon had taken the turn it had. She wasn’t entirely sure of what to think or how to feel. _How much, if any_ , she wondered, _was true? How much was just anger?_ She held her head between her hands and fell back on the bed. A moment later, Rex peeked in the doorway. He hopped onto the bed and positioned himself between his Lady and the door. She hugged him tightly and for the rest of the afternoon he let no one disturb her.

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Save the Queen

Chapter 10

_Save the Queen_

 

Dinner that evening was quiet and awkward. The Arl had no idea what had touched the usually exuberant crowd so. _Something while I was out on business?,_ he wondered. They separated again after the meal was done and the rest of the company was left to speculate as to what exactly had happened.

After a few useless attempts to relax, Solona quit her room and walked aimlessly around the grounds. She walked by the Arl’s study where she saw Alistair’s shoulder. He must have felt her presence because he turned around quickly to speak, but she had shot just out of sight unready to acknowledge him. She made her way down and stood by the library door and debated on going in for Zevran, but once again couldn’t bring herself to do it. Zevran knew she was there, just on the other side of the stone wall grappling with her heart, but he wasn’t ready either.

She meandered about for an hour or so. She went outside to take in the early evening air. As she sat, she thought without thinking, a mere exercise of working through her feelings. She let it come to her and fade away on its own and when she brought herself to standing again she at least felt less anxious and tightly wound. She eventually found herself climbing the stairs to her quarters again and just as she was about to quickly walk past the Arl’s study she was stopped by a kind, yet authoritative voice. “Warden!”

Solona cringed slightly, but turned to greet Eamon. She entered the study as he called for Alistair, who hesitantly rounded the corner from behind a bookshelf. They looked up at the Arl and noticed another person by his side. She was elven, with dark hair and a nicer-than-typical servant’s uniform and visibly nervous.

“Warden, Alistair! This is Erlina. She’s—“

“I am Queen Anora’s handmaiden. She sent me here to ask for your help.”

“Or perhaps the young lady prefers to speak for herself…” Eamon added.

“The Queen, she’s in a difficult position. She loved her husband, no? And she trusted her father to protect him. When he returned with no King and only dark rumors, what is she to think? She worries, no? But when she tries to speak with him he does not answer. He tells her not to trouble herself.”

Solona listened warily. Everyone had doubts as to what happened to the King, and rightfully so. _But what is she getting at_ , Solona wondered.

“My Queen suspects she cannot trust her father. And Loghain, he is very subtle, no? But Rendon Howe, he is privy to all the secrets and not so subtle! So she goes to Howe, a visit of the Queen to the new Arl of Denerim is only a matter of courtesy, and she demands answers.”

“What kind of answers does she get?” Solona asked.

“Things no decent person would repeat. He calls her every sort of name, ‘traitor’ being the kindest, and locked her in a guest room!”

Solona and Alistair looked at each other for the first time since that afternoon. Their expressions were those of shock.

“Loghain would allow that?!”

“King Cailan was like a son to him and Loghain left him to die.” The Wardens cringed at the mention of the day. Erlina continued, “Does he love Anora more? Who can say? I think her life is in danger. I heard Howe say she would be a greater ally dead than alive. Especially if her death could be blamed on Arl Eamon.”

“Would Loghain kill his own daughter? Just to frame Eamon?!”

Arl Eamon spoke again then with a great sigh, “We may have no choice but to trust Anora. The Queen is well-loved. If Loghain succeeded pinning her death on me…I’m not sure that’s a risk we can take.”

Solona and Alistair exchanged glances. They sighed in mutual silent agreement. “You’re right. We have to help.”

Erlina’s body heaved with relief, “I have some uniforms! Arl Howe hires so many new guards a day; a few more will not cause much stir. I will show you to the servant’s entrance. We must slip in and out with my Queen before anyone is the wiser. I will go ahead to Howe’s estate. Meet me there as soon as you can!” She went ahead and the others stared at each other for a moment.

“Alright,” Solona finally spoke “We need to get Zevran and—“ Rex had slipped in while Erlina was speaking and wagged his tail expectantly. “No, Handsome, not this time. We’re going to look like low ranking guards, and low ranking guards can’t have their hounds on duty. Don’t worry; I’ll whistle if I need you. …Zevran and…”

“Ohgren?” Alistair offered.

“No. There’s probably no uniform for his stature. And he has all the subtlety of a basket of baby dragons.”

“No Sten either, then. Leliana?” The suggestion was met with a silent glare. “Alright, no Leliana. And not Wynne, she’ll be too slow. Morrigan then.”

The Arl quickly summoned a servant to bring the elf and the witch upstairs. They were quickly briefed on their mission and set off, leaving what supplies they could behind as they would be in unfamiliar uniforms. The air of frustration between the Lovers Three was overshadowed by the urgency of their mission and they were soon just outside of Howe’s estate. Erlina signaled for them and they donned their new armor. Solona and Morrigan felt burdened by the weight and the heat, the men were slightly less bothered. It was not fitted to them as their armor, but they were not unfamiliar with utilitarian standard issue. Their only advice to the women was to “just walk with conviction.”

Erlina went ahead as a distraction and the four slipped in the side door of the vile Rendon Howe’s estate. Erlina had been right about a few new guards not causing much stir. Most everyone was so busy that, unless you stripped to your underpinnings and screamed aloud you were going to dance for the Maker, they wouldn’t look twice at you. But why did Howe need quite so many guards? What was he into?

As they walked along, Alistair quietly told the group what he knew of Rendon Howe. “The ‘Butcher of Denerim’ they’re calling him. He’s mixed up in all manner of unsavory things. He’s Loghain’s right hand man and is lucky for it. Everyone knows that’s how he clenched the Arling. He’s got—“ Alistair hushed the moment they passed an open door to a room full of decorated officers, “He’s got the city in a stranglehold of fear. And there’s something more to him, something darker than we even know.”

They were reaching the corridor where the Queen was being held. Solona looked around at the servants. Some were remainders of the former Arl’s household, busy about their duties, but with a nervous air about them, and new members who appeared positively frightened. They had come along hoping to move ahead for themselves and their families, but they had no idea what they’d gotten themselves into and now they were caught fast in the service of the Butcher of Denerim.

“Look at them,” Solona whispered, “They may as well be slaves.”

They finally came to the room where the Queen was and before they could breathe a sigh of relief, they were sent on another necessary quest. The door to the Queen’s “quarters” had been shielded with magic and the barrier could only be undone, the Queen explained from behind the door, by the undoing (or at the behest) of the mage who conjured it, most likely holed up with Howe himself. Solona and Morrigan rolled their eyes. They knew how to handle this sort of thing.

They begrudgingly accepted the task and prayed they could continue to move along as unnoticed as they had up until this point. It was unlikely, they knew, but they knew they needed to move quickly. “Ready yourself, your Majesty.” Solona said, “We will return shortly.”

 


	11. A Lone Warden

**Chapter 11**

_A Lone Warden_

The group turned heel and looked about them before heading back down the hall. They went a short ways before Zevran murmured a warning they all knew, but was worth saying aloud, “From here on, we will not slip by so easily. Even with these uniforms. Any beyond this point will be rather specific to whatever goings-on we shall come upon.” Solona nodded in agreement and they stepped quietly towards a door at the end of the hall.

The room was quiet and has been unoccupied for some hours. Solona looked about her; all around were his possessions, all below were his footsteps. She was sickened by the thought. To her left Alistair groaned, the same sick expression on his face. Morrigan scowled as per usual, but even she could admit this man was not worth the soil on the soles of his boots. He was pathetic, power mad, and stinking of desperation even worse than other men like him. Zevran placed a tentative pat on Solona’s shoulder and a second, slightly more hesitant one upon Alistair’s. They glance at his ill-begotten trinkets and fineries strewn carelessly, haphazardly around the room and Zevran suddenly stopped and grinned.

“This chest,” he pointed, “may contain a good deal of classified information. Howe is certainly not keeping his treasure in it. It would be easy to open, if you’d like.” He offered. Zevran enjoyed a good lock-picking nearly as much as a good, swift kill. Even more so if there was a great potential of gaining so much beneficial information. “Do it, Zev.” Solona agreed, Alistair and Morrigan nodded in concurrence.

The elf took a knee in front of the chest and slipped his tools into the keyhole. The act of picking reminded him of being a woman and he paused, suddenly overcome with longing. It had only been a few days since he had lain with Solona, but after the argument in the alley and at the Arl’s estate and then leaving so quickly after on this rescue mission, it felt like years. _Not now, you fool,_ he silently admonished himself, _later_ …He shook his head and focused again. A half-second later there was a faint click.

The lid creaked as it was lifted open and its contents proved what the Antivan had speculated. There were a few highly superior gemstones and what looked like old family heirlooms, but the chest was mostly filled with documents. Zevran handed them up to Alistair as he lifted the brilliant stones without hesitation. Morrigan glanced at him with a smirk. “For our troubles.” He explained.

“Solona, look! These papers!” Alistair exclaimed as he thrust his arm out. They bore the emblem of the Grey Wardens. “Now, call me crazy, but I just _know_ that Howe is no Warden.” 

“But what are they exactly?” Solona questioned as she examined them more closely.

“I don’t know. But they belong with us. I won’t let that glorified henchman tarnish our order any further.”

Solona rolled them up and slid them into the one pouch she had kept on under the dreadful armor. “Alright. Let’s go find Howe before Howe finds us. The sooner he’s dead and we’re back at Eamon’s, the sooner I can breathe.”

“With the Queen,” Alistair added.

“Yes, with the Queen. Though I will be a rather sore Warden if she should prove less than appreciative. I wonder how she feels about a pair of apostates coming for her.” She turned to Morrigan and grinned deviously.

“’Tis not a thing to worry about. You forget, Solona, we do have a mighty Templar with us.” Morrigan replied, gesturing to Alistair.

“Ex-Templar, thank you.” Said Alistair, cracking a smile.

 

Zevran shut the top of the chest and slid the lock back into place. They continued through a door directly beside the chest and found themselves descending a case of stairs _. O, joyous day_ , Solona thought flatly, _dungeons._ Just as Zevran had predicted, they were not long unnoticed. As they opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, a guard looked up in shock. “What,” he called, “Who goes there?!” But his voice was choked off just as the group was reaching for their weapons by a pair of hands from the cell the guard had been tasked with watching.

The pair of hands grabbed the guard and snapped his neck with a worrisome, swift precision. The group took a hesitant step back, hands still on their blades and staves. The cell door creaked and the body was dragged back into it. There was a sound of rustling and buckling and then the captive man stepped out.

He was a few inches taller than the average man with a bulky, yet distinctly cut muscle tone. A natural build honed to perfection. He had thick, black hair that he kept partially tied back that fell just before his shoulders. He had a manly, just slightly unkempt beard and a light, but sandy complexion. His fair eyes stood out even in the subpar dungeon lighting. A handsome man with handsome abilities. Solona hoped he would prove friend, not foe.

“I thank you for creating such distraction, stranger. I have been waiting for days for the opportunity. You never hear music in the sound of a key turning in a lock until you’ve been imprisoned.” The man smiled, “Do you think you could—Alistair?! Is that you?”

“Who? Wait, I do know you! You were at my Joining. He’s one of us, a Warden from Orlais. Jader, I think, or was it Montsimmard? I’m afraid I don’t remember your name.”

“I’m Riordan,” he bowed, “Senior Warden of Jader, but born and bred in Highever and glad to be back home.”

“How did Howe capture you?” Solona questioned with earnest concern.

“With an offer of hospitality and a poisoned chalice. I was fool enough to think Loghain did not yet know who I was.”

“Where’s Howe now? Do you know?”

“I saw him go into the dungeons. He may still be there.”

“What exactly are you doing here?”

“For the most part attempting to hold my tongue. I was sent when we received no word from King Cailan as to the outcome of Ostagar. The King invited all the Wardens of Orlais and their support troops to join him, then…nothing.” Riordan winced. Alistair and Solona bowed their heads and crossed their forearms over their chests. Morrigan and Zevran lowered their eyes respectfully.

Solona cleared her throat. “How large a force did you bring with you?”

“We had two hundred Wardens and two dozen divisions of cavalry. The first we heard of Loghain’s edict was when everyone was turned back at the border. That was when the rumor reached us that the Wardens were being blamed for the massacre. We finally decided it was safest to send someone alone to learn how best to fight the Blight and this regime simultaneously. As a native Fereldan, I volunteered to make the crossing.”

“But the Archdemon’s nearly here! Will we have no help?” Solona blurted, perhaps a bit insensitively.

“The other Wardens won’t risk their strength fighting Ferelden’s civil war. If they spend themselves against Loghain, there is truly no hope. They recall accounts of the first Blight, how many cities fell…If Ferelden is too foolish to save itself, at least we’ll be ready when the Archdemon leads its forces further.” Solona nodded in agreement. Riordan continued, a small grin on his face, “Besides, I hear you haven’t been doing badly at raising an army yourself! But perhaps if the edict can be lifted…I will send a message as soon as we are gone from this place.”

“Oh!” Solona exclaimed, remembering the papers, “Are these your documents?”

“Yes. These are my records: the names of the dead I could recognize at Ostagar, what I could find of Duncan’s own recruitment records, copies of the Joining ritual I rescued from our Denerim vault. These should never be seen by outside eyes, but I trust their encryption.”

“The Joining ritual? Can you induct other Grey Wardens?”

“Would that I could, for Ferelden sorely needs them. But for the Joining to work, the recruit needs not only fresh darkspawn blood, but a drop of preserved blood from an Archdemon. Ferelden’s supply should have been in the vault, but it was gone,” the group gasped, Solona’s jaw dropped, “I can only imagine someone’s took it and Loghain has either confiscated or destroyed it.”

Solona looked about, knowing they couldn’t linger here much longer, but couldn’t help asking one more question. “Is there anything else you can tell me about the Wardens?”

“This is hardly the best place to talk.”

“We’ve been staying with Arl Eamon at his estate,” Alistair added, extending his arm to Riordan, “If you need a place to stay, I’m sure he’ll make you welcome.”

Riordan shook Alistair’s arm warmly. “At Arl Eamon’s then, and good luck,” he took Solona’s arm and met her eyes sincerely, “Sister.”

He was off then with his papers and Solona prayed for his safe passage to Eamon’s estate. She had met a very small number of Wardens, but she felt the same sense of near immediate trust she had with Duncan. The four then made their way through the dungeons. They fought through a good number of Howe’s personal men and hounds. They stopped only to swiftly loot what they could and release several prisoners. Solona couldn’t bear to see them imprisoned and kept most foully by Howe. She listened to their stories and released them, their only crimes being ones against Howe’s personal agenda. 

Soon they had cleared the entire dungeon level and with a key in hand, set for the only locked door, behind which they knew they would find Rendon Howe, the Butcher of Denerim.


	12. Captured

**Chapter 12**

_Captured_

They stopped short of the door. “He’ll be directly in. There’s certainly no level below this,” Solona sighed, “Let’s do this.” Zevran took the key and slipped it in standing just to the side. The door creaked open and Solona ignored Zevran’s attempts at caution, marching in with little to no regard for what awaited her beyond the threshold. 

And there he was. Rendon Howe. An older man with short, soft gray hair and a slightly sallow complexion. His eyes were small and locked onto whatever fascinated him with a focus that was nearly obscene. He had a long, stately, if somewhat curved, nose and a build that was slightly smaller than an average man’s, but unexpectedly dense. For all his foul manner, he was not entirely unattractive. It was easy to imagine him as a young, virile nobleman. Many who did not know of his deeds done in the shadows found him rather handsome and even charming, but all the group could see in front of them was his countless wrong-doings and ill begotten gains. In this cold dungeon chamber, his very countenance seemed to ooze deception and calculated cruelty.

“Well, well! The Grey Warden! I must say I’m surprised that Eamon would condone you invading my castle and murdering my men. Is he losing faith in the persuasive powers of his Landsmeet?” He shifted his weight and eyed Solona slowly, gauging her personal capability, amongst other things. She wanted to shrink from his depraved gaze, but stood rooted in place as to not give him the pleasure of seeing her ill at ease. And it certainly would have done so. She glanced about the room and spotted two mages, knowing she and Morrigan would take them separately.

“I’m here for Anora.” She announced boldly, certainly, impatiently.

“Hahaha! That traitorous _bitch_ has _you_ under her thumb? Anora _does_ love games. I’m surprised she’d play with the likes of you.” Solona itched to bring down a tomb of mana around him. “You should have left when you had the chance, Warden,” Howe continued, pacing slowly not breaking his openly perverted gaze with Solona, “Slunk off to the Anderfels with the rest of your kind.” Alistair bristled and nearly charged at him, but Zevran tugged him back swiftly and imperceptibly. Howe slowly reached for his weapons and signaled to his men. He spoke slowly and deliberately with a dangerous, but enticing sneer playing on his lips. “This Landsmeet is a farce. Loghain will triumph and you…will die!”

Solona and Morrigan hurried to the perimeter of the room, each targeting the enemy mages before they had a chance to cast against them. Morrigan immobilized her target and funneled away his life force. She was knocked in the shoulder by another guard falling back and lost her concentration. She then quickly sent a blade-sharp spike of ice directly into the mages throat. Solona brought down the other mage as efficiently as she could manage, in case she was needed to heal or aid the men. She disrupted his mana flow and assaulted him with a barrage of spells that quickly overwhelmed the untested mage.

Alistair and Zevran fought at each other’s backs, alternately facing Howe or another guard as the motions of battle brought about naturally. It was clear that Howe was not affected by his age. He was a keen fighter and held his own against both men. The last guardsman dropped and Howe was finally caught between Alistair and Zevran. He turned quickly to face the fellow rogue Zevran. He knew the second he lost sight of the elf, he’d find his throat slit. But as he turned, Zevran merely stood motionless and smiled at him. Howe twisted his neck in recognition and made ready to sidestep Alistair, but was caught fast. Alistair stuck his sword deep into Howe’s side, just where chest-piece and war-belt separate. “For the Grey Wardens.” Alistair said hoarsely, leaning into Howe’s ear. 

Morrigan, Solona, and Zevran joined Alistair, staring down at Howe as Alistair withdrew his sword from Howe’s side. The quickly perishing Arl clutched his side and sunk to his knees before rolling to his back. His breath hitched as he snarled at the quad. “Maker _spit_ on you! I deserved… _more_!” His blood pooled around his body and his head lolled back. 

Zevran looted the bodies for anything small enough to carry and Solona turned to the door, shoving her hair behind her ear. “Come. Let us be rid of this place.” They left and headed upstairs quickly and with the confidence that there was nothing left in the lower level to challenge them. They had to fight a number of guards after they ascended the stairs, but soon found themselves back at the door of the Queen’s faux-quarters, the magic barrier gone since Howe’s mages were felled. Erlina stood at the door and the Queen stepped out also donning a guard’s uniform.

“Many thanks.” The Queen offered cautiously.

Solona nodded, “Let’s go.”

“Thank you. I’ll trust you to lead us safely out. If Howe’s people find me, I’ll be killed. And my people will insist on escorting me back to the palace where my father may also have me killed.”

The four, and Erlina and the Queen, turned into the main hall just then to be greeted by a grim sight: Loghain’s lieutenant Cauthrien and a large unit of well-trained, well-armed soldiers from the palace. 

“Warden,” Ser Cauthrien, the angular and small, yet intimidating woman commanded, “In the name of the Regent, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Rendon Howe and his men-at-arms. Surrender and you may be shown mercy.” 

With terse disdain, Solona replied, “I’m here to free Anora, who was held captive here!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Cauthrien spat, “The Queen isn’t being held here or anywhere else. Her father would never stand for such a thing!”

“She’s right here! Tell her, your Majesty.”

“What?!” Cauthrien coughed in shock. Anora stepped forward.

“Ser Cauthrien! Praise the Maker you’re here! This brigand tried to kidnap me!” 

Solona and Alistair whirled round. “WHAT?!” they yelled in unison.

Cauthrien called the order. “Bring them down!” Solona yelled to Morrigan and Zevran who stood behind them, nearer to the unguarded exit, to run. They left quickly despite the conflicting emotions at leaving the Wardens behind. “Loghain wants the Warden dead or alive!”

Solona and Alistair were overcome in little time. They were handled none so gently as they were forced to their knees and stripped of their stolen armor. Their heads were held back and their mouths pinched open as their captor poured draughts down their throats. Solona’s throat burned as she tasted a small hint of magebane, not enough to be fatal, but enough to render her power useless for a time. _Reinhold_ , she thought sorrowfully as her eyes looked to the side, _Alistair, Zevran…_ Alistair couldn’t recognize what he was made to swallow, but he suddenly felt weakened and limp. They were then tied up and dragged outdoors where there was a covered, barred cart waiting. They were lifted into the cart and received a sharp blow to the backs of their heads. Solona felt her body thud against the floor.

_This is the end,_ she thought just before she slipped into unconsciousness, _and the Archdemon is still alive_.

 


	13. A Timely Rescue

**Chapter 13**

_A Timely Rescue_

Consciousness came over Solona slow and thick, like a thunderhead. First there was a deep, all over ache, down in her bones and then the sharp jabs of cold stone pressing into her back and sides and buttocks. Then there was pressure in her face and the tender pulsation of numerous bruises in various shades of gray and blue. She had to fight to slowly force her eyes open and the light, although low, assaulted her violently. It took quite a few minutes before she could open them a second time and lift her head. She looked around and saw bars. _Prison, certainly, but which?_ She wondered. She could hear the screams of men being tortured disturbingly close. She smelled the rusty, salty scent of blood and winced. _And it seems I live to fight the Archdemon…maybe._

There was a sound from the opposite side of the cell and she jumped, ignoring the pain it sent rippling through her body. She was gripped by a new terror, being captive and not knowing where, but was almost immediately calmed by the familiar voice that followed.

“Oh, you’re awake! I was starting to worry!” 

She crawled to Alistair. “Are you alright?” she asked, huddling against him.

“I’ve been worse. I’ll be better still once we’re out of here. I think you may be worse off from whatever they made you drink. Are _you_ alright?”

“Mostly. Sore, tired…”

“Yes. They weren’t gentle in the least. And we had a short visit from a rather large man. I don’t remember it all, but he answered to Bruiser.”

Solona shuddered and put it from her mind. “It had magebane. And something else to counteract the bane-enough to disrupt my mana, but not enough to kill me. It was made by a skilled brewer. Loghain doesn’t want us dead just yet.”

“Well, what do we do now?”

“I can’t fight yet,” mana vaporized around her fist, but quickly dissipated, “And you look as bad off as me. We wait. They’ll come for us.”

“Who do you think?”

“Zevran. And Rex or Morrigan. Maybe all three, but no more. They’ll come. We just have to wait.”

“You’re right. They will.” Alistair fluffed the limp straw on which they sat, “Come here. Let’s at least try to get warm.” He fixed a makeshift bed and drew Solona to him.

They were both in pain, but felt considerably better next to each other. Solona didn’t allow herself to think of what may await them or of Zevran and their crew at Arl Eamon’s. She closed her eyes and refused to think and was soon rewarded with a hard, dreamless sleep. She had no way of telling how long they had slept or indeed how long exactly they had been locked away. Twice now they had been presented with stale hunks of bread and shallow, wooden bowls of filmy soup and the order to “eat, right? Loghain says you filthy wretches aren’t to die yet.” There were more screams and pain filled groans echoing through the chamber and Solona feared she and Alistair would have another visitor, but they were left mostly unbothered. _Hurry, Zev_ …she urged silently, _Loghain must be planning something far more barbaric for us_. 

Sometime after their second meal, the main lights were extinguished and traffic in the chamber slowed considerably. Solona and Alistair could slowly feel their strength coming back, but could do nothing except wait. They knew they’d be rescued, it was only a matter of patience and until then praying they would not be sent for. A chill was settling into the air and their bones. They huddled together to preserve what body heat they could and soon fell asleep. Solona awoke later to the chamber dark, except for one torch on the wall in the far corner, and chilled. She closed her eyes, but couldn’t sleep again as she was consumed by an eerie sense of disquiet. She kept her eyes closed and focused her hearing on the various sounds in the chamber. Alistair’s breathing, steady and strong, came first and then the squeak of a mouse in another cell, the crackling of the fire of the single torch, and something else. Something closer. Rhythmic, yet erratic. Heavy and ragged, yet cautious and soft. Breathing. Solona’s eyes popped open and beyond the bars she saw its source. 

Kneeling and watching her was a guard with a grim smile playing across his lips. She tried to cast a spell--one of repulsion, or to put him to sleep--, but she still hadn’t recovered enough to manage it. The guard stood and walked to the cell door. He crooked his finger and beckoned her to him _. He can’t_ , she thought, _Maker, yes he can. Who’ll stop him? I can’t fight him off as I am now. Alistair is still weak and even if he could, they’d hurt him…or worse._

“Come, pretty.” The guard called, hardly above a hoarse whisper. Solona stood, seeing no other choice. She walked as slowly as she dared, scanning the floor for anything that could be used as a weapon. She felt clammy and cold and grossly visibly in her torn, dirty undergarments. Behind her, Alistair stirred. 

“’Lona?” he mumbled sleepily, feeling to his side where she was supposed to be. “Solona?!” he sat up, jerked out of his half-sleep as he saw her up and walked towards the guard. “Solona, no! Don’t you touch her, you disgusting grunt!” He jumped up and lunged toward the cell door, thrusting his arms out, reaching for the guards’ neck. There was a sound of whistling steel as the guard unsheathed his sword and placed the point expertly at Alistair’s throat.

“Sit back and wait your turn,” he sneered, “I have a friend coming up right now for you.” 

Solona and Alistair clung to each other as they watched the guard turn a key in the lock and push the door open slowly. Alistair became frantic and couldn’t stop himself from charging the guard. Solona screamed for him as he tackled the guard to the floor. Only a second later, he was shoved off and the guard spat at him. “I’m going to have to apologize to Brandt for bloodying his plaything now.” He said as he scraped his sword across Alistair’s bare abdomen, leaving a superficial but bleeding gash. Alistair bit back a scream. The guard turned again to Solona and place his hand on the spot where her shoulder and neck met, pushing her against the wall. Another set of footsteps were heard.

“There you are, Brandt! Sorry about the mess. He’s a bit spirited, but that’s how you like it, right?”

“I’m afraid your colleague won’t be joining us,” came the response. A split second later, the guard slumped sideways and fell to the floor dead and Solona saw Zevran standing before her. She threw herself into his arms.

“Zev! Alistair needs—“

“It’s okay. He’ll make it. Come, we’re leaving now.”

They moved out of the cell where Alistair, with Rex as a crutch, stood. The four left. Solona could hardly focus on what was happening. She had just barely enough mana to shield herself and physical energy to stab any enemy that got too close. She walked and fought without seeing, driven by a force that simply pulled her _out._

After some time, she felt cool night air on her face and she breathed it in greedily. The four made their way back to Eamon’s estate in reserved haste and silence. The house was in a frenzy upon their arrival, bringing in a private doctor as well as a mage healer to reverse whatever damage had come to the Wardens. The pair were finally mended as best was possible and Zevran and Rex slumped outside against the door to Solona’s chambers where both Wardens lie sleeping. The rest of the party came up, anxious for updates and to comfort Zevran, who was an absolute mental wreck. Slowly they all staked out a spot in Alistair’s chambers across the hall to be close and slept. Morning light came and went and approaching lunch the Wardens just began to stir. 

Zevran ordered food and drink brought up along with fresh clothes and warmed water for the tub. He ordered the healers to finish their inspections of their patients quickly. When they were satisfied, Zevran hurried them out and sent a message to his party and the Arl that all business was being put off until the next day and they wished to not be disturbed unless they sent for assistance. They were given a wide berth.

When it was all done, Zevran closed the door softly and looked to Solona and Alistair. They had eaten their fill and bathed and were now in soft robes, propped against numerous pillows. Sunlight filtered in through the window, gentle and warm. Collectively, the three breathed a sigh of relief.  


	14. Alone Together

**Chapter 14**

_Alone Together_

 

Zevran looked up slowly from the door. He turned his head until his eyes fell upon the pair of Wardens, his eyes full of relief and madness. His chest heaved as he turned to fully face them. Alistair and Solona watched Zevran as he silently worked through his feelings from the short distance. Solona lifted a hand to him. “Zev, come here.” She beckoned sweetly. The elf remained still.

“If you’re angry, I understand,” Alistair began cautiously, “I couldn’t stop them from taking her or even myself. They hurt her and if you hasn’t come along when you had…I’m ang--,” his voice cracked, “I’m angry with myself. Disgusted, really.” He searched Zevran’s face for a glimmer of understanding or undeserved forgiveness. “Right. Well. I just wanted to say that--“

With uncharacteristic clumsiness, Zevran strode across the room and took Alistair by the face. He kissed him with a deep, rough urgency and Alistair sat there stunned. He was shocked, but he didn’t back away. He didn’t stop the elf; he closed his eyes and very slowly found himself kissing back. A few moments later, the two men separated from each other gasping slightly. Alistair was left to ponder what had just occurred while Zevran turned his attention to Solona. He kissed her just as deeply, but deliberating less rough than he had Alistair.

The three were quiet for a time until Solona spoke up. “When did you know, Zevran?”

“Sometime between our fight in the alley and killing Howe. I couldn’t figure out why I had been so angry, why I couldn’t let it go. Many worse things have been said to me in my line of work and I turned from them as though they were nothing more than whimpering pups. I couldn’t shake the feelings that came. Worry and guilt and the…desire to fix something I had surely broken. I fully recognized it when we were in the dungeons of Howe’s estate.”

Alistair gazed at Zevran awestruck. The realization of his own feelings was coming over him in waves. He had been feelings the same things at the same times, but he had been too daft to recognize it. He couldn’t wipe the shocked, open grin off of his face.

“You felt it too, Alistair? When Howe stood between us and you didn’t hesitate to end him?”

“I…did. I did and I didn’t even know what it was I was feeling. Maker, Zev…” Alistair paused, “All along! And I was none the wiser!”

“It can be overwhelming, yes? When you’ve already experienced something you hadn’t even realized was even an option…” Zevran smiled sheepishly.

Solona was standing now, stretching her legs and watching her two loves curiously. Mere days ago they were ready to tear each other’s limbs from their sockets. It had seemed so one dimensionally angry at the time, but there was so much buried beneath it that neither had known how to vocalize. She smiled to think that even she had unknowingly recognized it as well in the moments just before and just after Rendon Howe’s death. Zevran could have killed Howe three times over once he positioned himself behind the man, but he waited. He had been thinking of her since the alley, but of Alistair too. Zevran knew Alistair wanted that kill himself, deep down, even if Alistair didn’t relish admitting so, and so Zevran grabbed his own urge by the collar and dragged it back to his side. He thought to fix things by giving to Alistair what he wanted and needed and in the moment that Alistair dragged his sword from Howe’s side and locked eyes with the elf, their very souls quaked with recognition of each other.

Solona emptied a decanter of wine into three goblets and walked back to the bed. The men looked up and suddenly realized they’d left Solona out of their reverie.

“’Lona! I, that is, we…” Alistair fumbled.

“Is this…alright, my love? Should we talk?” Zevran corrected.

“This,” Solona began, smiling and handing both men a goblet, “is perfect. And we should drink!” She crawled back on the bed to sit between them enjoying the warmth of the win in her throat, inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly. “How is it possible,” she wondered aloud, “That we are so lucky? That when Thedas could be torn asunder seemingly at any moment that we could have this sort of peace and happiness and certainty and love? I realize that it could all be gone at any moment, whether it’s part of that infamous Grey Warden sacrifice and the Blight or a lucky shot from a band of thugs--“

“Very lucky, I should think, to hit one of us.” Zevran interrupted, grinning.

“The point it: we have so much. Against all odds we have all most people ever want. And that is why this is so worth it. This,” Solona pressed her hands onto each man’s chest, “is worth fighting for. Ours and everyone’s.” 

Alistair smiled. “In my wildest dreams, I had never imagined this--saving a nation, member of a legendary order, one third of clearly the queerest triangle in Thedas—would be my life. If someone had told me this as a boy surrounded by the Sisters and professors of the abbey or as an Initiate with the Templars that this would be my life, I would have laughed and lit an extra candle during prayers for them. I just,” he rested a hand on Solona and Zevran’s thighs, “can’t imagine life feeling any better than it does right now.”

Solona leaned over and kissed Alistair sensually and without reserve and then pulled Zevran to her, meeting his mouth with the same attention.

“Let me help you expand your imagination then, my brave soldier.” Zevran purred as he gently pushed Alistair back.

“Ho- what’s this?” Alistair exclaimed, half laughing.

“Lessons.” Zevran answered, untying the sash of Alistair’s robe and motioning for Solona to join him.

“Lessons? For what precisely?”

“To…exercise your imagination, of course.” Solona answered, leaving a trail of kisses on his bare chest. Alistair bit back a small groan as Solona lifted a leg and straddled him. His penis hardened at the meeting of their pelvises. A topless Zevran wrapped his arms around Solona and caressed her breasts and nipples while nibbling on her earlobe gently. It was as much for her physical pleasure as it was for Alistair’s viewing pleasure and Solona felt Alistair’s appreciation immediately. She smiled down at him.

Zevran stepped back and loosened his breeches and let them fall to the floor before slipping Solona’s nightgown up and over her head.

“I can’t just lie here and watch now.” Alistair growled, sitting up suddenly. He wrapped an arm around Solona and stood, turned, and placed her on the bed. He bowed his head to her body licking one nipple and then the other and then let his mouth wander lower to the delta of her thighs. There he lapped generously, eliciting soft mewls of delight from Solona.

“He’s learning already.” Zevran quipped, crouching behind Alistair. “Alistair, continue your work, as she’s enjoying your attention so, but nod in response to my questions. This will be your first time with a man, yes?”

Alistair nodded, the motion causing Solona’s hips to buck softly.

“I am going to help prepare you for the act. It may be slightly uncomfortable at first, but you must relax. I have done this before and I assure you I will work slowly and deliberately until you are prepared for more. You’ll see very soon it is a great and unexpected pleasure. Do you understand?”

Again Alistair nodded, making Solona squirm in delight. Zevran watched on smiling and reached for a bottle of oil he had procured. He slicked the oil over his fore and middle fingers and reached down spreading Alistair’s buttocks. Slowly he massaged the tight hole. Alistair tensed, but inhaled deeply and mastered himself. He relaxed and gave in to Zevran’s playing, expert hands. He focused on Solona’s wet folds, delighting in the rolling of her hips and her moans that made his hardened manhood twitch with longing. Zevran worked in his two fingers and stretched Alistair gently. Alistair was surprised to feel waves of pleasure mounting in him.

Zevran knew the effect his expert hand was having on the toned man heaving beneath him. In turn Zevran could feel his cock tug with impatient desire, but he worked on Alistair diligently to ease what would soon come. Solona was writhing under Alistair now. The sounds she was making were turning animalistic. Passion was mounting in Alistair dangerously fast now.

As Zevran pushed his fingers into him, Alistair circled Solona’s clitoris with his tongue even faster. He plunged his tongue into her pink womanhood. It would not, could not, be long now. Alistair suctioned his mouth over Solona’s pulsing, sensitive pearl and rocked it back and forth gently. The tiniest beads of sweat rolled down Solona’s forehead and chest and her skin was generously flushed. All she could feel were the crashing waves of pleasure. All she could hear was the drumming of her own pulse in her ears. Zevran had reached a total of three fingers in Alistair’s anus and was stroking deliciously on a spot that Alistair had not even known existed. He would need release very soon. Alistair quickened his pace on Solona ever so slightly and in a matter of seconds Alistair’s face was wet with a rush of hot fluid.

Solona’s orgasm rushed over her. First it was an almost painful, yet exquisite burst of molten steel in her pelvis that spread quickly to even her eyes and toes. The sensation then mellowed just slightly and rolled through her body, still white hot. She groaned as she rode the seemingly endless waves of pleasure. Her pulse eventually slowed and she breathed heavily from the surprising exertion. Her vision blurred and white and burning red aura momentarily as she opened her eyes.

Solona pushed herself further up on the bed to allow Alistair space to lie as well. Zevran had slowly withdrawn his fingers from Alistair and offered a steady arm to help him onto the bed. Alistair rested his head on Solona’s abdomen and Zevran perched on the edge of the bed. Both men were still achingly hard. A few quiet minutes passed before Solona smiled and spoke.

“Are you absolutely sure you never practiced that before me? You’re entirely too skilled at it.”

“Indeed not! I suppose I must be…naturally gifted.” Alistair playfully boasted.

“Very gifted,” Solona purred, “Now then, come here and let’s see your needs met. Zevran, I know you’ll be gentle with him.” 

Zevran smiled. “Oh, yes.”

Alistair crawled slowly up to meet Solona’s face and kissed her softly before sitting back on his thighs to beckon Zevran to him. The elf was already behind him coating his length with oil. When he was sufficiently lubricated, he positioned himself ready to bury his cock into Alistair’s taut backside. “Are you ready to take me, Alistair?”

Alistair looked back at Zevran, earnest eyes beaming. He nodded in consent. Zevran leaned into Alistair’s ear.

“May I,” his words caught in his throat. He laughed inwardly at his own nervousness. It had never meant so much to him before. “May I take _you_ , Alistair?”

Alistair met Zevran’s mouth in a reassuring kiss. “Yes. Take me, Zev.”

And with that Alistair plunged his cock into Solona. The tight warmth was delightful and Solona moaned as she stretched around Alistair’s girth. Zevran spread Alistair’s buttocks and pushed in with a grunt of satisfaction. Alistair’s breath hitched and he swore he saw the Golden City. The evening passed with only a short break for dinner and fresh clothes and linens to be summoned up and boiled water to be brought in for bathing. The trio didn’t find sleep until the dark morning hours. 

For a short while at least, they were finally alone. They were finally _all_ together. And it felt so good.


	15. Hindsight

* * *

**Chapter 15**

_Hindsight_

There was scant more time than the day and night they spent together to spare. There was still work to be done and they had a Queen to question. She tried not to, but each time Solona heard mention of the displaced royal, she bristled. She didn’t buy that it was solely Anora ruling the kingdom as she claimed. Cailan was a bit quick to react, maybe bordering on foolhardy, but he had been a good King. He was loved by all just as much as the Queen. He supported the Wardens. He was fair and just. And when, much to her surprise, Solona met him he exuded nothing but warmth, charm, and a comfortable sovereignty that made Solona feel all at once quite humble and at ease. King Cailan was just and fair and Queen Anora had very little to her favor, in Solona’s mind, except for a pretty face and voice to match. _But_ , Solona thought with a sigh, _I must put on my polite face for she must be questioned. Questioned and Maker willing replaced by Cailan’s own sibling very soon. Of course there is still the task of seeing Alistair convinced to take the throne._ She did not wish it on him if he truly did not want it, but it was his by right and should he accept she did not share his doubt of ability to rule. King Alistair was already one of legend in Solona’s mind.

Solona sighed heavily as she tried not to focus on the Queen for the moment. There were several matters to be attended to now that she and Alistair were safely retrieved and _mostly_ rested. The group needed to go into the city and see what there was to be seen. There was, had to be, some aid to be found here at home against Loghain. The Arl had spoken of strange rumors about the alienage that warranted investigation. Loghain, the great general, Champion of the Battle of the River Dane, seemed to be mixed in with many foul doings these days. _At least_ , Solona thought, _this may give the Landsmeet pause before siding with him. Whatever man he was before, he is not now._ Thought she didn’t have much faith in the stories of him and knowing him now in the context she did found it hard to imagine he had fallen very far at all from the man he was once.

 

* * *

 

 

Solona remembered meeting him at Ostagar in conference with the King and Duncan, absolutely certain of himself and of the King’s folly. He had planned it all along, of course, but seemed to want to avoid killing Cailan if he could succeed in some way bringing Cailan to his persuasion. His eyes, she recalled, watched over Cailan’s shoulders reading a desperation that bordered on obsession. He watched Duncan like a hungry wolf ready to lunge the second the chance presented itself. Loghain watched Solona that day rather curiously. Before she met with him, Duncan, and the King, she caught him staring at her from across the camp. She knew his name. She recognized him from the stories. She remembered how grand he looked across the way in his shining armor. There’s a man ready for war, she had thought and was only just now realizing how right she had been. His eyes caught Duncan first and she watched him sneer before casting his gaze on her. He stopped on the unfamiliar figure and wondered who she might be and how she might prove useful or not.

She caught his eyes with her own just as she was straightening up from setting her pack and bedroll down; waiting to hear from Duncan where she might put her things and what might she be required to do. She ran her palms down her dusty, travel-wrinkled robes. The journey from the Circle Tower to Ostagar proved to be longer than she expected, but she found she relished the burn in the muscles of her legs. That burn was taking her _forward_ and although she had only been gone from the Circle for a short time, she was already leaving that leg of her life behind. Her lingering anguish over Reinhold’s death was leaving, too. Or not leaving, she corrected herself, but changing. It still hurt, would always hurt, but it now also began to feel like a force. Something that drove her forward, urged her on. His memory made her want to do something and maybe joining the Grey Wardens was the key to that. Or perhaps not, but it was farther than sitting in the stone walls of the Tower, at times feeling important when assigned a task not usually not given to mages her age or experience level. At the time she was sure she’d be made enchanter soon, and might have accepted after Reinhold returned and they discussed what they were to do and where.

Even then, in the beginning at Ostagar, she began to scoff at the idea of being a mere teacher to students who wouldn’t be allowed to leave the Tower without exceptional talent and a company of Templar escorts. A mage is going to help stop the Blight, she thought, beware I may set blood demons on some lord’s simpering child. She sighed and smirked. She didn’t hate the Tower or her Circle life, though it was lacking and unfair, and while she did have moments of anger at her station in life, she tried not to dwell on them. It never did any good and put only herself in a foul mood. So she put those thoughts from her mind and dusted herself off. As she looked up, there was Loghain Mac Tir staring at her from across the camp in his resplendent armor.

He hadn’t expected her to look up and catch him staring, but he didn’t avert his gaze or jump back in surprise. She realized then that there was something more to him, though she had no way to guess his plan. She found herself unable to turn away as well, but it was more so because his gaze seemed to hold her. His eyes wondered at her in an open but secret way; how might he use her, he questioned silently, how might she aid or interfere, does she have strings and who pulls them? He looked her over again, longer than was proper though none noticed or would even have questioned him if they had. His silent questions seemed like a thirst he longed to slake, Solona thought idly as he turned his gaze back to the maps and reports laid on the table before him.

 

* * *

 

 

His stare told her so much then, but didn’t even hint at his betrayal, she thought now as she and her company were preparing to bring the entirety of the Bannorn upon him. On the same token, he had not guessed then that she would be such an instrumental part of his opposition as Regent. The day he saw her at Ostagar he had wondered much about her and thought briefly about having her summoned or shadowed before that damned Grey Warden Duncan had her inducted. A closer look, he told himself, at this young woman come all the way down from the Circle Tower with the head of that infamous order. He then quickly decided against it. She couldn’t be anything more than a recruit, simple and plain. If, by anyone’s behest, she became an obstacle she would be easily removed. All the Wardens will be removed soon, he thought, smirking.

Weeks and months later, when news came that the fabled Antivan Crow he had hired to assassinate her had not only failed, but joined her side, he lay back in bed, his furs pulled up just below his chest, and thought with a rueful grin that he ought to have taken stock of this mage when he had the chance.

 


	16. The Day's Business

**Chapter 16**

_The Day’s Business_

* * *

 

Lunch had come and the group found themselves taking it together in the dining hall. More than once, lunch became a jumbled mess in the estate with so much work being done. The party would take their food in their quarters or wherever they happened to be working-the library, or the training yard, or the armory. The staff hurried when they noticed everyone crowding into the hall and bread and butter were laid out. Soon after came trays of meat and more bread, fruit preserves and fresh, and vegetable dishes joined them.

Since the company had grown so large, lunch was never a formal meal. Dishes, cups, and utensils were stacked at the end of the table and the food was laid in the middle. Instead of kitchen ladies fixing and serving each plate, the group passed plates and dishes up and down amongst themselves. Jugs of water and table wine and ale were placed along the length to be in reach of anyone that may need them. The Arl always laughed inwardly when the afternoon meal was shared this way. Many of the nobles in town would be shocked to see this sight in the capital at a titled man’s estate. His staff had been surprised at first, but they adapted quickly, which pleased the Arl and he rewarded them in what ways he could under the strained circumstances.

Dinner still retained the semblance of formality, although the group had grown familiar, and in most cases quite friendly with each other, so it was always a lively event, only tempered by the ever-present worries of the Landsmeet and the Blight beyond.

Solona took her seat at the table between her prince and assassin, smiling at them happily. She exchanged greeting with her company as a plate was passed to her. Sten nodded in amiable silence, Bodhan and Sandal greeted her boisterously, Morrigan nodded and smiled, determinedly saying nothing to Wynne, as not to be misconstrued. Wynne followed suit. Leliana smiled in a friendly, but small way, Oghren grunted as Oghren did and Rex took a dish on the floor behind the lovers three. Riordan reached across the table and held his arm out. Solona locked hers with it.

“Sister,” he said, smiling.

“Brother.” Solona replied, friendly and trusting. She was decidedly glad to have him among her company.

At the end of the table sat Anora. Solona nodded her head politely, regarding her.

“Majesty.”

“Warden,” came the polite reply.

Their situation was odd and because of it Solona did not feel driven to stand on anymore ceremony than that. The Queen for her part seemed glad to leave well enough alone.

Solona filled her plate with roasted meat, placed between two slices of bread, and a good helping of cooked baby carrots seasoned with butter and cinnamon. She also helped herself to some bread slathered with jam and a large handful of sugared plums. She drank just one glass of wine as she still had business in the day that required her to have her wits about her. When lunch was over and everyone began standing and stretching and making their way to their previous occupations, Alistair and Zevran lingered awhile.

* * *

 

“And what is it you have to get up to today, dear one?” Alistair asked.

“I need to talk to the Queen.” Solona sighed in response, silently debating over the last sugared plum that lay on her plate, “I’ve put it off long enough.” She left the plum where it was.

“I can put off my work and join you,” Zevran offered.

“I’ll come too,” Alistair added.

Solona shook her head. “No, I’ll go alone and feel her out. Things may get…muddled with too many involved. I’ll see what she means to do, her intentions, whether or not she’ll prove at all friend to our cause and report back.”

“We’ll stay nearby. In the training yard just below her window. You can call if you need…assistance.” Zevran said, with a raised eyebrow.

“I highly doubt the Queen will harm me. Or that she could.”

“You never know.” He replied, smiling.

“What are you two working on down there anyway?”

“Zev’s teaching me how to catch him.”

“Just give him a peek of you rinsing the day’s sweat and toil off and he’ll show himself before long,” Solona laughed.

“Oh, come now,” Zevran interrupted smiling, “It takes more than that to catch me. Even pressed between a rock and Alistair’s hard place, I have quite a few tricks at my disposal.”

Alistair flushed and tried to play it off with a quick retort, but his words caught in his throat. Solona laughed harder, but with soft eyes. Zevran gave a deep chuckle, throaty and assured.

“Come along then, my Prince,” Zevran announced, “We do have work that needs to be done. Sooner rather than later.”

“Yes, yes. Back to the grind, as they say. But I guess the grinding will come later.” Alistair added with a naughty grin on his face. The three separated then, laughing to themselves, putting aside more carnal thoughts for nightfall.

Solona walked up to her quarters to freshen up before seeking the Queen. She looked up to see Leliana at the top of the stairs waiting for her. She stifled her inner shock.

“Solona, can we talk? Please?

The mage nodded in acquiescence, not trusting herself to speak just yet. They turned the corner and sat in two chairs that had been placed at the dead end of the hall. She had always wondered why they were there and was silently amused to be putting them to use.

“I wanted to apologize. What I said, it was wrong. Or what I didn’t say was wrong to insinuate. I didn’t mean to be so cruel. I am happy for you three to have each other in these dark times. I hope…you can forgive my thoughtlessness.” Leliana searched Solona’s face as she spoke. She was earnest in her apology.

“Oh, I forgive you, Lel. And I’m sorry for only reaching for defensive malice in return. I didn’t mean it, to suggest…” Solona sighed, words failing her. Leliana took her hands.

“Forgiven. Forgotten. I’m so glad.”

“Me too. Girlfriends?”

“Girlfriends.”

After a moment, they hugged quickly and Leliana left. She headed downstairs mentioning a certain meeting between one of the maids and a nobleman that she herself had arranged when she saw the look of love between them. Solona smiled heading down the corridor, glad to be past the bad feelings between them. She rinsed her face and finally went to speak with Anora. She ignored the raised voices she recognized as Morrigan and Wynne and entered the Queen’s chambers after a polite knock.

* * *

 

“Hello, Warden. It is good that you came to speak with me.”

After a brief moment of awkward sincerity, the Queen segued directly into the heart of the matter.

“I will be blunt. I can see that your voice will be a strong one in days to come. It is to you that Arl Eamon listens, and with good reason. My father must be stopped, but once that it is done Ferelden will need a ruler. I would welcome your support for my throne.”

Solona could feel bile rising in her throat, scarcely believing that the Queen could think that was the reason for this talk. She disciplined her face, determined to not reveal too much of herself. She inhaled and, with some effort, spoke calmly.

“Are you proposing an alliance?”

“That is exactly what I am proposing. When the time comes, you support my bid in the Landsmeet to remain on the throne. You will be seen as my father’s enemy, yet you will be in support of his daughter. You will be seen as supporting the interests of Ferelden as opposed to solely those of the Grey Wardens. In return, I add my voice to yours. Do you see? Together we can do what alone we cannot. “

The Queen seemed to speak sense. Anyone would have thought so, but there was something off about it all. Solona would have to tread carefully and choose her words with precision. She tried, for the moment, to feign disinterest in the throne.

“What happens to Loghain if you are Queen?” Solona queried.

“He is my father, as well as a great general who has served his country well until now,” Anora began, “If there is a way for him to live, I would prefer it.”

Solona held her tongue for a moment. The thought of Loghain being allowed to live enraged her. “Justice must be done, don’t you think?”

“I will always be my father’s daughter,” Anora replied, unapologetically, “But even I know he must pay for his crimes. It will not make me glad even so. Does that affect your decision? Can we yet come to an arrangement?” she finished too quickly.

Solona kept calm, though the corner of her lip curled in perturbation. After a breath, with her head cocked slightly sideways, Solona asked, perhaps a bit petulantly, “You think you are a better candidate than Alistair?”

The Queen didn’t miss a beat. “Do you disagree? You are a fellow Grey Warden. What do you think of Alistair’s potential to rule, never mind his willingness?”

“I think he would do fine, actually.” The mage met the Queen’s gaze without faltering. The Queen was shocked at the open admission, though she hardly let it show.

“Alistair seems like a kind, well-meaning man, and biddable enough. These are admirable qualities, if not kingly ones.” Anora began, “He also seems to be a fine Grey Warden—which is exactly why he should remain one and serve the kingdom by defeating the darkspawn.”

_She’d attack his character now_ , Solona thought, _trivialize him._ She scoffed inwardly. “A kind king who is a fine warrior? Sounds good to me.”  She began casually, “You don’t seem to like Alistair very much.”

“My feelings toward Alistair have nothing to do with it.” The Queen replied, her voice pitching so slightly, she seemed to be reaching the end of her rope, as Solona was, “I barely know him. I simply believe that I am what this country needs. I will fight for what I believe. Would Alistair do the same?” 

_Yes_ , Solona thought, _more than you could know…_

“What say you then? Your support for mine in the Landsmeet?”

“No. I cannot support you.” Solona all but spat before she realized she had shown her cards before she meant to. She planned on remaining vague and ambiguous until she brought the news back to her company for council, but felt the words bubble out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“Ah.” The Queen said, looking dejected and disappointed, as if Solona had been a cog in her plan that she expected to spin with little greasing, “That’s too bad.”

“Will you support Alistair in the Landsmeet?” Solona asked, not bothering to conceal her intent now.

“Maric’s boys are charming, aren’t they?” Anora answered with a smile, “And happiest when they have a woman to dote upon. Is that why you support him? The way you speak of him…it simply makes me curious.”

“I love him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“And you think this is what he actually wants? …Maybe it is. If so, then he has changed.” She said softly, “I’ll tell you this: my father must be stopped. Once he is kept from the throne, if it should fall to Alistair, then I will be content.”

Anora’s answer surprised Solona. She had just been speaking of how she’d fight for what she believed, she was just trying to cast shadows on Alistair’s potential and Eamon’s and Solona’s intentions, but now she would be content if the throne were to “fall” to Alistair _? Is she being honest,_ Solona wondered, _or is it feigned? Does she think to confuse me into thinking her intentions are opposite so she may take advantage?_ Solona exhaled softly. Her head had begun aching. Sensing an impasse, she decided to take her leave.

“Thank you for speaking with me, your Majesty. I should go.”

“Then I wish you luck, Warden.” The Queen replied.

They smiled at each other as amiably as either could manage and Solona left the room and went to her quarters. She lay back on her bed and rubbed her eyes and forehead, utterly confused and exhausted.

 


	17. Garnering Support and Unrest in the Alienage

**Chapter 17**

_Garnering Support and Unrest in the Alienage_

* * *

 

It was hard for Arl Eamon to take the news of Anora’s allegiance. Alistair fared better on account of still being unconvinced of his readiness and ability. Solona and Zevran tried many times to convince Alistair that it wasn’t just a job he could do, but a job he was, quite literally, born for. They tried to illuminate Alistair’s innate sovereignty, but he would have none of it. Talks were shut down just as soon as they started. He finally exploded in anger, stuttering and punching tables and walls, and left the estate for some hours alone.

“Zev, what do we do? I had no idea. I thought he was just nervous.”

“Fair Alistair is many things just now, I’d venture to say.”

Solona sighed. “What do we do?”

“We’ve done enough. Now we must sit and be patient. Alistair must come to this on his own; it is not a trap to be lured into.” Zevran answered, petting Solona’s head softly. “And more for the better, I believe. No king is a true king until he takes the duty upon himself.”

And so the group let talk of Alistair’s reign drop. Eamon still brought it up rather frequently, he seemed a little blind to Alistair’s opinion on the matter, and there was no way to ask him to stop as long as they were guests in his estate. _Oh well_ , Solona thought, _the voice of one is not so hard to bear._

The city was growing tenser every day. Solona could feel her blood itch under her skin, the urgency for action rising to the surface. She watched Alistair in admiration; while their companions asked rather frequently if she was alright, he never let on that he experienced any discomfort. The only time he showed signs of fatigue were in the deep hours of the night when it could not be helped. He lay sprawling across the bed with Solona nestled against his chest and Zevran behind her with his feet tucked under Solona’s to reach and intertwine with Alistair’s. Both Wardens would start to stir when the Archdemon’s voice whispered in their dreams. Sometimes they woke with a start, glad to be rid of the horrid sound, other times they woke slowly weeping and unable to discern the nightmare from reality. When the break was clear, Zevran could comfort them in turn if they needed it, but on nights when the calls grated and taunted them, Zevran could do little but let them cling to each other until it passed. The elf learned a new respect for the Warden order on those dark evenings. _How does one Warden shoulder this alone_ , he wondered, _and how did I acquire two_? He smiled through a sigh.

* * *

With all talk of kingship silent and all Warden contracts fulfilled, they began to prepare in earnest for the Landsmeet. Loghain and the threat of civil war still loomed over them, even as the Blight was gaining momentum each day. The political issues of Ferelden had to be put aside or stopped immediately. Every day they went out into the city to gather what information that could be used against Loghain. It took some time and a tactical approach, but they soon had an idea of the Regent’s hand in things. Solona spent hours in conference with the Banns and Arls, listening earnestly and buying flagons of mead until she finally had an opening to voice her cause. Some were ready to give their support to the Wardens, others laughed in their faces for more than one reason. The easiest case they had was with Bann Alfstanna of the Waking Sea. Solona left the estate in haste the moment she heard Alfstanna was in the city, sitting in the Gnawed Noble. The Templar Irminric they had encountered in the dungeon of the late Arl Howe’s estate, half-starved and in severe lyrium withdrawal, had tasked her with finding and delivering his ring and news of his fate to his sister, Alfstanna. Solona agreed without the thought of repayment, such was his pitiful state, but a new part in her was whispering that this could be doubly favorable. She was surprised to hear her mind tell her this, as before in the Tower she would have never thought to use such news as leverage, but since leaving and joining the Wardens nothing seemed to fall into neat piles of right and wrong anymore. Alfstanna thanked her profusely and just before rushing out to collect her brother swore the Waking Sea’s loyalty to the Warden cause.

With all of the crew’s ears to the walls, it wasn’t long before the rumors of the unrest in the elven Alienage surfaced. There had been news, an official story, of a sickness plaguing the elves and some were happy to believe it was simply that. You could tell them immediately as they openly stared at Zevran with fear and judgment. It wasn’t long before Arl Eamon broached the subject of the Alienage and it was decided. The only way to uncover what was happening in the Alienage and what hand Loghain had in it was to go there and find out.

“We’ll all go,” Leliana said enthusiastically. She was up on her feet, grabbing her bow and quiver.

“That would be unwise.” Sten replied. “They want the truth hidden. A small group of strangers will be cause enough for suspicion, but the appearance of our…diverse company? It would lead us to our failure.”

The group thought for a moment and heads nodded in agreement.

“Who will go then?” Wynne asked.

“The Wardens,” Eamon answered.

“And I.” Zevran interjected.

Solona looked to Morrigan, who seemed reluctant. Her stomach sank a little. _Why doesn’t she volunteer_ , Solona thought, angrily. Wynne saw as well, Solona noticed, but the elder mage said nothing and schooled her expression as best she could. Solona sighed and looked to the rest of her crew.

“Sten? Oghren? If things are as sketchy as we’ve heard, we’ll need the muscle.” Alistair said.

“Aye.”

“Yes.”

The dwarf and the Qunari answered in unison.

“If it’s all the same to you, Dwarf, I shall accompany the Warden.”

“Aye, Giant,” Oghren replied, “My hammer hand’s been itching, but sure. Wait, come to think of it, this is my pint hand. Heh heh, you go on ahead. I’ll stay here and, uh, hold down the fort.”

They would set off the next morning and solve this mystery once and for all.

* * *

When they finally did enter the Alienage, an overwhelming sense of hopelessness came over them. It was worse than the rest of the city by leaps and bounds. Some elves did indeed lay sick out in the open, against buildings and makeshift, rickety ladders and landings. Stray animals slinked by, mangy and pathetic, eying the newcomers cautiously but desperately. The elves used to drop scraps for them, but now there were no scraps to be had.

There was a commotion in the center of the borough, near an old, massive tree. Solona understood it to be the Vhenadahl, or tree of the people, which she had only read about. It was unlike regular trees with an air of magic about it, somewhat akin to the wild, mad Sylvans and even the speaking, intelligent Grand Oak they encountered in the Brecilian forest.

The elves that weren’t sick were gathered at this tree, or rather at a building just beyond it. They waited there with pained expressions and heavy breath. The foursome hung back to take in the scene and after a moment Solona looked up to see Zevran several feet away beckoning them to come closer. Soon they were able to discern voices from the general mutterings of the crowd.

“How much longer? We aren’t sick!”

“When will our family members come back? No one’s come back from that building! Why can’t we speak with them?”

“What authority do you have here anyway, Tevinter?!”

The crews’ eyes opened wide. They all looked at each other, saying without words _what the hell are Tevinters doing here?!_ There was one voice that rose above the rest, warning another elven woman to go home to her children and be wary of these strange men. She was younger, red of hair, and angry enough to spit fire. They had heard they should speak to an elf named Shianni. There was no introduction required to name this voice as she. Solona approached her.

“What’s going on?”

“What’s wrong, shem, did you get bored and decide to come watch the elves die of plague?” Shianni spat. “Wait…Soris told me about you. You’re the one who freed him from the dungeons. These foreigners say they’re here to help with our outbreak of plague. Funny thing, though, all the people they “help” disappear.”

“That’s not true and you know it, Shianni!” another elf interrupted. “Both my sisters got the Tevinter spell cast on them and they’re fine!”

“Where’s your niece then? And my Uncle Cyrion? And Valendrian?”

Solona held her hands up. “Where did this plague come from?”

“From the Blight.” Shianni answered flatly. “That’s what they say, anyway. People started getting it after the refugees showed up from Ostagar, so I guess that makes sense. These men from Tevinter say their magic will prevent people from catching it. But it doesn’t work if you’re already ill, so they set up a quarantine.” She sighed. “But many of the ones they quarantine aren’t sick. One of them was our hahren, Valendrian. And I don’t know what we’re going to do if we don’t get him back.”

They could all sense the anger and urgency coming off of Shianni in waves. If this was their way into Regent Loghain’s misdeeds, and if this was the poor state the elves had to endure, then they were going in now, rather than later. Solona gave Shianni a reassuring look.

“I think I’ll go take a look inside that hospice.”

“They won’t just let you in!”

_Of course not_ , the mage thought, _but I’ve learned how to find ways in where they don’t let you._

“Maybe there’s another way inside?” Solona inquired, diplomatically.

“Well…” Shianni’s thoughts exploded with hope, “There is another entrance in the alley. There’s no crowd watching, no mages, and only one guard. You can try. Those guards mean business.”

Alistair looked at Sten. Sten looked at Zevran. Zevran smirked at Solona.

“It just so happens,” Zevran said, with his chin cocked back, “that we’re in the business of taking care of business.”

* * *

The foursome pulled back from the crowd and padded silently down the alley. One guard would not be cause at all for concern. When they reached the back entrance, they were surprised to see the single guard was Fereldan elf, not Tevinter human.

At the sight of them, he began a monologue that sounded as if he had repeated dozens of times just that day. “No. You can’t go inside “just for a moment,” so you might as well walk right back around to the front doors.” His tone softened, “You shouldn’t be out on the streets now anyway, what with the plague.”

Solona felt she could level with him, appeal to his better senses. “Keeping your people from their families doesn’t bother you?”

Alistair cringed slightly and shot a look to Zevran and Sten saying _she went in for the kill, didn’t she?_

“Look, this is how things are. I didn’t make the Blight, the plague, or anything. I’m just trying to make a living.”

_This is what Loghain has done. Turned citizens against each other and is waiting for them to tear themselves apart._ Solona understood his desperation. “How much do they pay you?” she asked simply.

“Not enough to put up with all these questions. What do you want?”

The mage reached into her coin purse. “Would you let me in that house for six sovereigns?”

“Six…Sure. I never saw you, and you never saw me.”

And then the man was on his way for a well-timed break and they had their way in. They saved one elven life and though there was surely bloodshed waiting on the other side of the door, Solona felt that counted for something.

The Wardens, the assassin, and the Qunari stepped through the door and over the threshold.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I can't even tell you how blocked I have been until now! I don't know if I've had such an *inexplicable* case of block ever before. We're getting there now though, as you all well know! I really hope to be back to a more regular uploading schedule now, though I make no promises. Thank you all for reading and for sticking around during the long, dry breaks!
> 
> More and more Dragon Age Inquisition news is being made available to us and I am so. freaking. excited. for this damn game! I just may die! Earlier this year, my husband preordered the special edition World of Thedas Vol. I for me as my birthday present. If you haven't checked it out, go do yourself a favor. It's a freaking compendium of all things Dragon Age!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews are LOVE and they spur me on like nothing else! Spur me, readers! Neeeeigh!
> 
> -KATE


End file.
